


Carnivore

by HedonistInk, Heikijin (Nnai)



Series: Carnivore [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Butts, Cannibalism, Dicks, Doll!Jean, M/M, Magical Bondage, Mentions of non-con, Omorashi, RP, Unintentional drug use, Violence, Violent Sex, Warped mentality, Witch!Marco, dicks in butts, sort of, witch!jean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nnai/pseuds/Heikijin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a doll, and a witch. Living alone in a cottage deep in the forest where no-one ventures, or at least almost no-one. Left alone after his Maker's death with only fairy tales and horror stories from books to shape his world view Jean is distrusting of humans, feral and quite franky, odd. Marco is a healer, searching the forest for some rare healing herbs he's run out of when he stumbles upon the cottage during a heavy rainstorm and goes in to escape it. Unfortunately it's already occupied, and Jean doesn't take kindly to people entering his home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intrusion

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely for our amusement... It had to happen, and Kai and I thought others may like to share in it. There's violence and porn and pretty crazy boys. 
> 
> This is the song the title is inspired by (and it relates to Marco) - [Carnivore by Starset](https://youtu.be/LAMiX5EEbFU)
> 
> Originally written RP-style so keep that in mind if the formatting seems odd at times.  
> Jean is provided by [Heikijin.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nnai/pseuds/Heikijin)  
> Marco is provided by [MihaelKai.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MihaelKai/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is a doll, and a witch. Living alone in a cottage deep in the forest where no-one ventures, or at least almost no-one. Left alone after his Maker's death with only fairy tales and horror stories from books to shape his world view Jean is distrusting of humans, feral and quite franky, odd. Marco is a healer, searching the forest for some rare healing herbs he's run out of when he stumbles upon the cottage during a heavy rainstorm and goes in to escape it. Unfortunately it's already occupied, and Jean doesn't take kindly to people entering his home.

Humid air hung heavy around the small, dark cottage. The midst of the rainy season meant not only was it wet outside, the high temperatures made the air feel as if it were smothering and suffocating him.

Jean didn’t have much in the way of _his own_ belongings in the cottage that had been his home since his birth many years ago. Two pairs of trousers were all that were actually his, the rest of the clothing and items were those of his Maker, a Maker who had long since passed and withered to nothing but a slumped, dusty skeleton in the arm chair at the hearth. The skull was missing a large portion of the left upper side, a gaping hole where bone and eye socket should have been but now there was only the nest of a family of small mice nestled inside.

Rain pelted the straw roof - home to all sorts of insects, spiders and a few nesting birds - as cicadas chirped their eerie song on the clusters of trees outside the single pane sash windows, the glass distorting the view slightly where it had been hand crafted and held imperfections and waves.

Fire popped and crackled in the fireplace as rain fell through the chimney and hissed against the logs burning there. A black cauldron filled to the brim with water was bubbling away merrily hanging from the large chains criss crossing the hearth for hanging, the clear fluid inside ready for food to be made or clothing to be washed depending on it’s owners need.

Jean was perched on one of the thick, blackened beams of the rafters, watching dust motes dallying through the air in the light of the fire, the dim light from outside doing nothing to illuminate the space this late in the afternoon. He liked it high, he could see his domain and feel safe, the heady, organic smell of the eaves was strongest here and it always calmed him for some reason. Just like the smell of the grass after these storms or the fresh zest of sap in the air after cutting down a tree.

Bare feet hung down, swinging as Jean leaned back against a duck feather pillow he’d pulled from his hammock - which was also strung between the rafters, high in the tall roof - his eyes heavy lidded and glazed as he stared. The floor below was flagstone covered with ornate rugs that had once been splendorous but were now dulled with dust and wear, a wooden bed sat against one wall that was made and clean. There was a small wooden table and two stools, the armchair with his Maker, and many, many shelves filled to the brim with bottles and jars filled with all sorts of things from herbs to the body parts of strange creatures.

Books lined many shelves, too, leather bound and well read with dogeared pages that had seen better days. Those books kept Jean occupied often, he’d read all of them. They were his connection to the world outside the forest, a world he had never ventured into but had seen supposed glimpses of through those yellowed pages. Jean had read of the cruelty and strangeness of men, and women. The idiocy of children and the ferocity of beasts and beings unknown, of the darkness and the light and the unrelenting struggle to stay alive.

No, he liked it here, alone, in his cottage. Where he was safe, where if man ventured he could kill them swiftly and quell the hunger roiling in his guts with their flesh, and give what was left to the lizards that had picked his Makers bones clean.

The fire cracked again, the water bubbling over the edges of the pot and making the wood hiss and squeal even more, and Jean closed his eyes and sighed and felt himself start to doze.

Marco sighed out a sound of disgust, tugging his coat closer around him as he ducked from cover to cover under the trees at the edges of the path. He hadn't planned on being out in the rain for this long, hadn't prepared for it. He was tired, grumpy, and most of all soaking wet. Looking for a rare flower that only bloomed in the rain hardly seemed worth the effort. But he had asked around and the prices from those who had it were absurd, even for its properties.

His nose tingled with the sharp scent of burning wood cutting through the damp smell of the rain and wet plants. He looked up, eyes darting around before spotting the small puffs of smoke. A cottage this far into the forest could only belong to a hunter or a hermit, neither group being known for hospitality to soggy travelers. But it was better to try than to give up on a chance to perhaps dry off a little. His feet seemed to come to the conclusion faster than his head and he was off in the direction of the smoke.

Marco wove off the path and through the trees, keeping an eye on the direction of the smoke until he arrived at its source. From the outside, it looked like it had seen better days, but it clearly wasn't uninhabited. He knocked, loudly to be heard over the rain. When he got no answer, he knocked again. He debated with himself the potential risks and benefits of entering a stranger's home uninvited. On the one hand, he didn't want to piss off a hunter by trespassing and have to fight. On the other hand, he was wet and miserable and didn't want to get sick.

He took a steadying breath before pushing the door open. "H-hello?" Marco called in before taking a few steps in, looking around. It was, frankly, filthy by his opinion. And all those strange bottles. It had to be a hermit, he reasoned, some old man who couldn't tend to the place anymore. Maybe an aging witch, even. His posture stiffened at the thought, the hairs at the base of his neck prickling to stand on end. "Hello is… is anyone home? S-sorry to barge in but I'm just looking for some shelter from the rain?"

Jean was jerked out of his light snooze by the sound of the knocking at his door. His body instantly stiffening as there was another and he felt himself prickle with anticipation, fear and adrenaline quickly lacing it’s way through his veins. Drawing his feet up so he was at a crouch on the beam he watched as the door opened, fingers digging into the wood and making it splinter slightly though the sound of it was covered by the crackling fire.

This one was younger than the rest he had seen, younger and less hair covered his chin and arms and, well, everything. Pupils dilated until just a small sliver of golden yellow wrapped the edges them, his breath coming quick and heavy and was almost as loud as the thumping of his heart in his throat as he eyed the intruder.

Rain, it’s always rain that brings them with torrents of water and soggy clothes and the smell of wet beasts clinging to them that Jean _hates,_ but this one didn’t smell that way. He smelled purely of rain and it confused him. Twitching, Jean shifts his weight from one foot to the other like a cat as he watched the man walk deeper into his home, the purpled, ruined skin around his eyes doing nothing to obscure his vision - luckily.

Then he growled, deep and vibrant and without warning. Feral and wild as Jean leapt from his perch above and grabbed the other male by the shoulders, wrapping legs around him and digging dirty fingernails into the cloth covered flesh of his arms as he clung from behind. Oh he smelled good, so fresh and clean and _new_ and Jean felt his body responding to it with a sharp growl of his stomach and an unrestrained rumbling groan as his mouth watered.

“Meat…” His voice was hoarse and unused and it scratched somewhat painfully as he used it for words instead of just the guttural noises he usually made. _Meat, food, meat, meat, flesh… so good, so hungry, food…_

Marco screamed when a sudden weight landed on him from behind, nearly knocking him to the ground. His mind ran through possibilities. There could have been a wolf living in the cottage. Or some sort of wildcat. It could have been a dog of some sort owned by the owner of the cottage. He wasn't in any mood to be torn open by someone's rabid housepet. His thoughts skidded to a halt when he heard a word come from his attacker. It was… a _human?_

"Get the fuck off me you freak!" He thrashed, trying to buck the strange figure off of him. Why in the hell was some creepy guy acting like he was on the menu? Marco wondered briefly if cannibals were even still a thing. If it was some sort of blood magic user, it was possible.

His thoughts raced as his heart hammered in his throat. He wondered if he would have to hurt or even kill this guy. It seemed absurd to consider killing someone in their own home when he was the trespasser. That wasn't the sort of person he was. Or at least, it wasn't the sort of person he tried to be. But if it was kill or be killed, Marco knew he wouldn't… no, _couldn't_ hesitate. "I'm warning you! Get off! I'm not food!"

Jean heard the other man’s words - the ones that followed the scream that made Jean’s ears ring - but he ignored them. Why should he stop? What would _he_ do to _Jean_ … what _could_ he do? He seemed weak in comparison. As for not being food…?

“Everything is food… Flesh…. Meat.. Man.. Food…” Jean’s voice was still hoarse and deep and stuttered between laboured breaths of excitement and adrenaline and hunger.

Behind him a ghostly pair of arms flicked into existence. Large, clawing hands coming down to slam palms flat against the floor in-front of Marco’s feet with a loud thud and muddy dust flying into the air from the impact. Jean dug his fingers in harder, feeling the muscles beneath indenting from the force, his legs wrapping tighter around the other man’s waist.

“Hun-gh-ryyy!” Jean moved a single hand to grab thick stands of dark hair and yanked the other man’s head back so he could see his neck. The monstrous hands twitched against the floor before moving to grab the strangers ankles in a harsh, ice-cold grip.

The rolling sound of thunder suddenly broke through the noise inside the cottage and Jean jerked in surprise at the sound. Usually he knew it was coming, usually he felt the charge in the air and the smell of ozone but this time he’d been focused on the man. This time it caught him by surprise and his grip intensified considerably for completely different reasons, his breath catching panicked in his throat. The hunger was still ripping him apart from the inside but he was frozen for the moment, choking on his breath and the saliva he tried and failed to swallow.

Marco's eyes widened at the sight of the arms that thumped down in front of him. They looked like they were built for one thing, ripping things apart. He wasn't keen on the idea of being the next thing they ripped apart. The idea of "everything" being food made his gut churn. He questioned the idea of thinking his attacker "human". Some sort of feral savage that could have been human, at best.

His hands scrabbled against whatever flesh he could find, clawing desperately as he tried to release himself from the grip. When his head was yanked back, he started to truly panic, thoughts of his neck ripped open flashing through his mind. The thunder clapped and in the relative silence that followed it, Marco took his chance. The assault had paused for some reason and he wasn't going to miss that opportunity. His hands closed around the other's wrists, fingers tracing a few quick movements as he called binding and containment into his mind and out through his hands. Forcing the electric pulse of his magic along with them, he felt the tingle of bindings being brought into existence.

 _Together, together, together, together._ Marco all but pleaded his desperately thought command into willing the man's wrists to meet each other behind his back. He moved to try to pry the other's legs off of him from the ankles, hoping to toss him free. In the back of his mind, his rage boiled, reminding him of how difficult it would be for Jean's legs to be wrapped around him like that if his ankles were broken. Marco forced the thought down and away for the moment, instead forcing all of his strength into pulling Jean's legs apart and off of him before spinning around to face his attacker.

"Now… Is that any way to treat a _guest_ in your house? You _don't_ just eat people! That's not okay!" His words were bitter as he willed the restraints to spread, snaking around the other's thighs to bind them together. Marco took in the appearance of the half-naked figure. He was a mess, that much was obvious. Some sort of purple gunk was on his face, his hair wild and long, and his eyes… Marco shuddered. Those were the eyes of a predator, not a man.

Jean thought, for a fleeting moment, that he had been struck by lightning again as he had when he was new and small, before his Maker died. The static pulse through his wrists making his vision swim for a moment with the panic, though it abated somewhat when he felt his arms moving behind his back without his consent.

Another strangled noise escaped him as thunder clapped again, louder this time. He couldn’t think or move or react to the way he was being grabbed and restrained with something tight around his wrists and thighs that made him feel irritated and strange. His head was full of hunger and anxiety and the man was speaking but it sounded garbled through the noise of blood rushing and ringing in his ears.

Jean struggled again after a short moment of shocked immobility. His familiar - the monstrous arms - had crumbled from being when his own arms had been restrained and he was prone on the floor before the intruder. All he could do was glare at the other man now, unable to break whatever these bonds were and unable to fight the way they made him feel… strange beneath his skin like he’d never felt before.

He snarled, opening his mouth to try and say something but all that came out was a shameful whimper as more thunder crashed overhead and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. The melted skin around his eyes wrinkling and pulling with the action as scabs cracked and bled fresh purple blood that dribbled like tears over his temples and cheekbones.

Marco couldn't help thinking that with that glare and his futile struggling, the other man looked almost… pathetic in a way. He quirked a brow at the whimpering, taking a few steps closer and crossing his arms to peer down. "You're scared of thunder. Really? You're a grown adult, aren't you? Trying to eat people but flinching from some energy in the clouds?"

The cold soaked in through Marco's wet clothes a bit more and he shuddered. "I'm going to use your fire. That's really all I came here for anyway. I'm really soaked. I'd like to be a bit more dry if I'm going to fix your face." He shrugged off his coat without waiting for an answer, turning to drape it on the line by the fire. It wasn't as if the guy could exactly say no. Or well he could but he couldn't enforce it. And damnit Marco was soggy and miserable and his heart was still racing a bit. The least the guy could do for trying to _eat_ him was let him dry off.

He walked back and watched the purple liquid trickling down the man's face for a moment before kneeling down just out of risk of any biting range. He reached out to touch at the purple trail gently, rubbing it between his fingers and giving it a slight sniff. Gritty. Metallic. It was blood. Purple blood. His mind churned. He could only think of dragons having purple blood. Clearly this man… or well _being_ really, wasn't human after all. But the question then was why he was bleeding dragon's blood. "Does that hurt? I can fix that for you, would you like that? If I fix your face will you stop trying to eat me?" His tone was curious and gentle as he churned out the series of questions in quick succession.

Jean growled through grit teeth as the other man mocked him for all he knew, as if there were anything different or another way to stop the hungry, flesh craving part of him from taking hold. He knew he wasn’t human, he knew he was made of many things but what those things were was a mystery to Jean. Just that surely some part of him was a beast that hungered for flesh without fail to a point that overwhelmed.

Then the stranger just made himself at home and pulled off his coat to hang by the fire, dripping and heavy on the line.

when he came back and knelt beside Jean, he flinched slightly but growled again, pulling against his bindings but stilling when the tight, static feeling made him feel that throb in his lower belly.

“Hurt…? T’ch.” Jean looked away, glaring across the room at nothing as the hot, seeping feeling of blood made his face itch again. It _did_ hurt but he was used to it now, this sort of thing was normal for Jean regardless of where on his body. But he could fix it? Like the Maker could fix him when things didn’t go away on their own.

Jean twitched slightly, turning his gaze cautiously back to the other man and opening his mouth as if to say something before closing it again at a loss. He didn’t know _how_ to stop the hunger, that craving, but it could be ignored… maybe. Thunder again and he flinched, again, heaving out a quick, sharp breath. “M-maybe!” He squeaked out, frowning against the hot humiliated feeling colouring his face as how he’d been reduced to this restrained, nervous lump.

Marco's lips gave a slight twitch, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips at the way the other man looked away and glared. It spread into a bemused smirk at the squeaked-out word. He shook his head slightly. That was clearly the best he was going to get. "Well, it's a start. First things first. Hi, I'm Marco. Nice to meet you. And you are?"

He cracked his knuckles carefully before reaching out, brushing the hair away from the injured area so he could get a closer look. He couldn't really tell the severity of the injury with the strange-coloured blood. But it certainly didn't look good at a glance. This wouldn't heal easily on its own. And it had to hurt more than the guy was letting on.

"Can you tell me what hurt you? I just need to know if it was a magical or non-magical animal." He glanced over to his coat, running down a mental list of all the supplies he had on him. He wasn't sure how herbs would react with whatever this guy was but doing the entire task himself would be very tiring. Draining, even, if it were a magical injury.

It was strange for Jean, to be given another person's name. It was the first time in his life in-fact, his Maker had just been ‘Maker’ and all the other humans he had met were killed before they even knew what was going on.  His answer was automatic

“Pet.” He said then frowned, no wait… he _did_ have an actual name right? it was never used but the Maker told him once that he’d call him after his own son who’d died. “Jean.” He corrected, tongue feeling odd around the pronunciation. “I think.”

When Marco reached out to him Jean pulled back as much as he could whilst still being bound, it felt weird to be touched so gently, to be looked at and talked to and just… it was odd. He didn’t flinch as his wound was unintentionally ghosted with knuckles as his hair was moved, though it stung and ached.

“Spider… uhm… a big spider, female tried to eat me in the caves.” He felt like he’d swallowed small, sharp rocks as his voice tried to get used to being used again. “This was when she tried to eat me digest from the outside.” Jean coughed a little on the last words and lapsed into silence again, watching Marco closely and still overly aware of the smell the other man had. The thunder was still rumbling overhead and the rain was pelting the windows and making the rattle but the noise of the storm seemed to be moving away even if the rain was not.

"Nice to meet you, Jean." Marco gave a small smile, chasing the sadness away from his face. This guy, Jean, had to correct himself on his own name. He was considered somebody's pet? Anger boiled in some part of Marco's mind. He wasn't sure what Jean was, but he was human enough to not deserve to forget his own name.

He nodded quietly at the words. "By big I'm going to assume you mean bigger than your fist. So definitely something magical. And I'm going to guess it stung a lot?" The healer sighed. He was afraid of that. This wasn't going to be an easy task. Spider. Digestion. Acid, Marco concluded. Still, he tossed out the question to confirm his suspicion.

He stood, knees giving a small noise as he did, before crossing over to his jacket. Marco rifled through the pockets, pulling out a handfull of leaves and looking at them before plucking out a few thick, juicy leaves and shoving the rest back into his pocket. He spun on his heel, crossing the space as he crushed the leaves in his hand. He spoke again as he dropped back to his knees, this time above Jean's head. "Okay. I'm going to warn you. This will feel weird. It's going to feel like hot little needles but they shouldn't hurt. It should just tingle. This first part might sting a little though. But I promise it goes away."

Marco carefully spread the leaf juices and pieces across Jean's injuries, taking caution to not set them down too hard. They would help to draw the poison up. He took a deep breath, rubbing his palms together before reaching out, covering Jean's face with only a few breaths of air between his hands and Jean's skin. He focused his energy into his hands. Really, he only needed one hand, the one with the ouroboros on the back slowly waking up and starting to spin. But his other hand was a good amplifier, especially when he was dealing with a magical wound. Marco concentrated on Jean's facial wounds, focusing on healed skin in their place. He felt the familiar crackle of electricity down his arms and then strongest against his palms as he drew open the void through his palm. He pulled away the wounds, drawing them up, taking them into the void, pulling them into nothingness. Or, at least, into otherness.

“Bigger than you.” Jean said in clarification as he gauged the size in his head. Marco was a small bit bigger than he was and built thicker - more muscular though Jean didn’t really need that level of muscle for his strength considering he wasn’t human. Yes, it was definitely bigger than his fist. “My skin melted. If that’s what you call stinging. But I squashed it.” He said in a flat tone that would have been considered sarcastic if not for the fact Jean didn’t really know that’s what it was.

Jean squinted his eyes suspiciously at Marco as he came over and kneeled so close to his head, told him he was going to put something on him that would feel weird - as if he hadn’t already done that with the weird binding that was still making his lower body feel twitchy.

Then he had to close his eyes because those leaves were being sprinkled over his wounds and those hands were so close to him. Jean felt it, all the magic and staticy tingles that took his breath away. The smell, the smell of Marco so much closer, the body heat, the hunger, the hunger, _the hunger_. He choked down a gulp of air and arched against his bonds again, mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain when really all he could think about was Marco and how he’d taste.

He wouldn’t, he said he’d not… this man, Marco, was helping him he was fixing him like Maker had, he was softer than Maker had ever been and he was _fixing_ him and he couldn’t eat or attack him now whilst he was helping him. He didn’t _want_ to any more and that was a strange and frightening feeling because the hunger was still there. It felt good, it felt _bad_ and wrong and right and too much but too little and Jean started to feel frustrated and angry at the conflicting urges and feelings, enough that he couldn’t stop another of those feral growls sort of mewling from him in an odd, trembly mess through his open, panting mouth.

Marco grimaced at the thought of a spider the size of himself. He shuddered at the idea that the man before him "squashed" something that size, the thought of those massive phantom arms stirring in his mind. Oh yes, he was sure Jean was much more dangerous than he seemed. But he also seemed reasonable enough. Once they were past the eating business.

As he worked, Marco's other hand dropped away down to his own lap, leaving one hand slowly ghosting just above Jean's face. The leaves fizzled and crumbled into dust, burning themselves up in a heatless flame as they reacted with his magic and did their work. His breaths came steady and deep, stuttering a bit on the inhale when Jean arched against the restraints.

"Sorry just, try to relax. Almost done." He offered the simple reassurance almost automatically, assuming Jean's reaction to be pain. Slowly the tingling abated and faded away, leaving only a heat in his palm in its wake as the void sealed with no injury left to consume. "There. All better." He dropped back onto his ankles, panting slightly from the effort. A flush tinged Marco's cheeks as he looked down at Jean's face for the first time. He cursed himself for finding the man--being--whatever slightly attractive, looking away. No, he wouldn't let himself think like that about some creature that would eat him as soon as look at him.

Marco had finished but Jean felt like he was still too close, too warm, too _much_. His face felt much better by far but all he could do was arch again and tilt his head back to stare still open mouthed, at the other man. Eyes sharply focused on Marco and yet slightly glazed over and heavy lidded.

Struggling made his body warm, his chest ache and his pelvis throb. Marco made him _hungry_ and tingly and fixed him, and now he was so close and looking at him and Jean didn’t know what to do with himself because the hunger was _more_ and _something else_ compared to usual and he didn’t know why. He wanted to move, he hated being bound he hated not being able to act on whatever this instinct was coursing through him.

“Get… away….from me…” Jean managed to grind the words out through newly gritted teeth and couldn’t help making more of that humiliating whimpering noise that made him want to break stuff. “ _Hungry._ ”

The look on Jean's face was downright _sexual_ and it made Marco's face flush when he glanced back at him. Where did this guy get off looking at him like that? The words made him frown and scoff, standing up and dusting off his knees with a flourish. "No, see, the correct words are 'oh thank you so much', to which I'd then say 'oh you're welcome, Jean, it was my pleasure really'. Get it?" The sardonic tone was practically dripping from his voice.

His own stomach rumbled slightly and he pressed a hand against his abdomen. Marco had spent more energy than he expected fixing the wounds and it had left him drained. "Well food's not a terrible idea, anyway. Since we've established that I'm not on the menu, how about I see about making some _actual_ food instead? I'm just going to assume you need some sort of meat. So just hold tight." Marco smirked to himself slightly at his own comment as the irony struck him. Jean couldn't do anything but hold tight.

"Anyway, just give me a few minutes." Marco walked back over to the door, opening it to the pouring rain. He shivered at the thought of going back into that. There was one option to get food quickly. But he didn't like the idea of it. He hesitated before looking to the trees, seeing which ones rustled with the movements of birds huddled against the rain. Marco stepped outside, shutting the door behind him, before raising his hand in the direction of the tree that seemed inhabited. He hated to do this and it was even riskier without a direct target in eyesight. But if he made it quick and hard, it would be painless for them, at least. Marco sighed, digging deep into his mind, to his frustration and anger over nearly being dinner and his desire to not be dinner, giving life to the icy sting of his palm for just a moment. It left a repulsive metallic taste in his mouth, but it was enough. A few small birds dropped like rocks from the tree with small squawks. And the tree behind it. And the one behind that. Too much, then. Marco cringed, an instinctive apology falling from his lips to no one in particular, before darting out into the rain to gather them up. It had to be done, he reminded himself. He didn't want to be dinner. And he was hungry. It was necessary.

He struggled with the door and his full arms, closing it tight behind him. He didn't look at Jean as he spoke. "So uhm… Can I cook these like a civilized person or are you the 'raw meat, rip it apart with your teeth' type?"

“Thank you so much…” He copied Marco’s sarcastic comment but was genuine in his delivery, though breathless. It was automatic, doing - or rather - saying things when he was told to or being corrected by his Maker so it was just his natural reaction when it came to Marco, too.

“Mhn… Meat..” He mumbled, watching Marco leaving with eyes focused on nothing but him. Whilst Marco was outside Jean struggled against the ropes again, they tingled and squeezed him and sent shocks through him that he didn’t quite like because of the strangeness. “Gh-!” He huffed and went limp after a short lived but heavy struggle, at least he was on his side now where he could sort of curl into a ball and ease that weird throbbing in his groin with the pressure of his posture.

When Marco returned Jean’s eyes were on him again in an instant, hot and heavy and not missing anything as the other man carried his gains and spoke to him. “I don’t care....” Jean said in way of response to whether he ate it cooked or not. Usually, not. Because it was faster and easier and the last time he’d tried to use the pot to cook with he’d burned the skin on his hands off because putting your hands into boiling water to fish out the meat apparently wasn’t a good idea… nor was grabbing said pot and throwing it across the room when it was still mid boil.

“You can cook without that thing taking the skin from your hands right?” He nodded towards the cauldron. “Because I can’t so I never used it again. I don’t know what my stomach is from but I don’t get sick from it raw.”

Marco blinked slowly at the unusual question. He gave a small half-laugh, shaking his head. This guy really didn't have his act totally together. He burned himself cooking. And never tried again apparently. "Yeah, I think I'll be fine."

It didn't take long for Marco to have the birds prepared and cooking away in the water. He had even had enough herbs on him to spice it nicely, the scent of the herbs giving a pleasant twinge to the air. He sat back on his heels, looking around the space. And nearly fell backwards into the fire moments later as he scrambled to his feet. "Is… is that a… Jean is that a fucking corpse in that chair?"

It certainly looked like it. Well, more of a skeleton at this point, but still definitely a dead person. Marco could only wonder how long the guy had been dead. From the giant chunk missing from his skull it was obvious it had been a violent death. His eyes darted to Jean. Had he killed this guy, whoever he was? And just… left him sitting there? Like some absurd trophy or some sick joke?


	2. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco discovers Jean's not as feral as he seems. Maybe more just isolated and afraid. Jean discovers Marco isn't like the usual travelers who come by. And maybe he doesn't want to kill him after all.

The noise Marco made - the laugh - made the warmth in Jean run deeper and he frowned. It might have been a sound he hadn’t really heard much before but that didn’t mean it should affect him like that. Maybe Marco was using some other weird magic on him alongside the the restraints.

He eyed the other man suspiciously as he worked, until Marco looked around and seemed to have some sort of fit. Jean - still curled on his side in a sort of fetal position - studied the other man’s expression and didn’t change his own at the question directed at him in shock.

“It’s my Maker. He didn’t wake up again.” He said flatly and matter of factly. “The mice live there now.” He flexed his feet but stopped abruptly, he really disliked his dick right now what was it even doing for fucks sake. On top of that, the floor was quite chilled compared to the rest of the space and it was hard, his shoulder and arm was going numb and he rolled his eyes upward to glance almost longingly at his hammock - which was more like a nest of blankets and pillows.

But it wasn’t long before he resumed his watchful stare towards Marco, like a cat watching prey.

Marco's eyes darted from the skeletal form to Jean repeatedly. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides and his bindings on Jean unconsciously tightened and returned to normal each time. His heart raced in his chest with a bit of panic at how calm Jean was. He might as well have been talking about the weather rather than the corpse occupying the room. Marco wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time.

"He didn't… His head's missing a chunk, of course he wouldn't wake up from that. That would have killed him. You… did you do that? Did you kill that guy? And now you're living with his corpse?" Marco shuddered violently. "Why didn't you bury him or something?"

Something else occurred to him and he frowned. "And what do you mean 'maker'? You said something else before about 'what your stomach is from' too, come to think of it." Marco took a half step back and a half step forward, an odd swaying as he couldn't decide whether to move away in fear or move closer in curiosity. "What… what are you, anyway?"

As Marco’s fists clenched and the restrains tightened in response Jean’s world was suddenly reduced to the feeling. He gasped, tensing his own muscles which did nothing but intensify the tight, tingly sensation as his dick throbbed in earnest now, trapped in the space between his thighs and his stomach as he curled tighter in on himself.

“W-wh...stop… don’t… do that it’s weird… what have you done to me?” He hissed through his teeth, trembling.

The questions came one after another, and the other man seemed to be much more on edge again. Jean tried to force himself to concentrate on the questions and answer them, take his mind off of his body and the throb of it.

“I was … scared. It hurt I didn’t wanna do that and he kept doing it and I hit him to make it stop. Then he didn’t wake up. That’s all. I just… thought he’d wake up… then he was food for the lizards, so I didn’t want to move him away from them… and now he’s a home for the mice. Why does it matter?” It was helping, a bit. Although his voice was still trembling slightly, gasping.

“I told you I’m Pet. He made me.. I don’t know why. I don’t remember anything before I was here I don’t know what I’m made of … the blood of a dragon, the heart of a nymph? I’m not human, though.” His throat felt scratchy again and he swallowed thickly, falling silent.

Marco blinked, realizing only faintly that he'd been flexing the restraints. "Huh? Oh, sorry. But it's just a binding, it won't hurt you. Relax." He waved offhandedly, not noticing Jean's distress over his dick and its behaviour.

"So it was… an accident?" Marco felt equally comforted and distressed by that concept. It was relieving to know Jean hadn't killed some guy and left him posed just for the hell of it. But the fact he could accidentally bash someone's head in and still expect them to wake up was alarming. "And it matters! It matters because it's creepy to keep the corpse of someone you know around. Or of someone you killed. Or the corpse of anyone for that matter! It's unsettling! It's awful! ...Not to mention it's unsanitary."

Marco couldn't help wondering what it was that Jean wanted so badly to avoid doing that he smashed someone's head in. But he felt it was also better to not ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He listened as Jean explained what he was. Some sort of creature hybrid. Marco's eyes scanned his features and body for answers. Jean couldn't be a true hybrid; nothing could cross with a dragon that he knew of. So it was pieces only then. Parts stitched together and given unified form then brought to life. Some sort of doll was all that Marco could think of. But the seams were so perfect. It was impressive work, that much was certain. When Jean mentioned having a nymph's heart, Marco's eyes widened in surprise. There was only one reason to use the magic or blood, or in this case parts of the actual _body_ , of a nymph. Other creatures had far more powerful magic or more resilient features. But nymphs had a unique sexual appetite and allure that wasn't found anywhere else.

"O-oh… I see." He tried to pretend his words hadn't stammered as much as they did. So Jean was designed as what, some elaborate sex toy for some hermit? The idea was horrific. There had to be some other reason.

“Well, I didn’t know that then. I mean I’ve read the books now so I know but I _didn’t_ then and now it’s just there. How the hell am I supposed to know when Marker didn’t tell me or why should I care.” Jean growled the answer out, feeling irritated at the entire situation. Though now that Marco wasn’t so close to him at least he could think relatively normally.

He wondered how much longer this whole situation would last. With him bound and on the floor whilst this man invaded his space. Jean was thankful for being fixed, was inexplicably _drawn_ to this man in a way that made his previous hunger seem insignificant because this new type was more complex and confusing. But this was _his_ home, _his_ safe place.

“Take it off…” Jean tried to sound calm, his voice strained around stuttering breaths. “This thing binding me. Take it off, I won’t go near you… please. At least my legs..” He wasn’t going to _beg_ but he’d be as polite as he could muster with how his body was throbbing and twitching and aching enough that he just really, _really_ needed to grab himself. Like cradling a wound it seemed like the best way to ease the discomfort, it always worked when he’d bruised himself and put pressure on it, the sudden jolt of discomfort would ebb away relatively quickly.

Marco gave only a small sigh and shake of his head at Jean's irate answer. He realized it was probably better to drop it than to push the topic further. It didn't matter, really. Not to him at least. And it was obviously a sore spot.

"Take it off? And risk you mauling me again like a feral dog?" He crossed his arms with an unimpressed expression. Well Jean was being polite at least. So he obviously had some sort of sense. And it was a bit harsh, he supposed he didn't need Jean to be completely immobilized to keep himself safe.

Marco hesitated before giving a small nod. "...Alright. But only your legs. And you stay at least an arms length away from me. And so help me, if you try anything…" Marco didn't finish the sentence as he let the connection between the two leg bindings weaken and sever. Each of Jean's legs remained wrapped by itself but they were no longer tied together and each leg was wrapped much more loosely such that it should barely be able to be felt, the glow dimming. It was just a precaution really, to make it quicker if he needed to use them again. He hoped he didn't.

Jean couldn’t help the almost instant sigh of relief as the bonds around his legs were loosed and disconnected from one another. Now that he could move his legs more freely it was easy for him to roll over and sit up, using them as leverage as he spread and bent them at the knees.

He took his eyes off of the other man at last, mumbling an unsure thank you under his breath as he stared down at himself. It was less prominent now and was less painfully pressing against his pants as the main cause seemed to have been the leg restraints. Jean supposed that was a good thing, because he still couldn’t use his hands.

“I wont do anything. Just don’t get as close as before… I get… strange.” He admitted, eyes glancing up to eye the bubbling cauldron on the hearth, the smell of boiling meat starting to gradually fill the room as the rain against the roof settled into a steady, quiet thrum.

Marco flushed slightly as he watched Jean move himself to the new position. He wasn't sure but it looked like Jean had a boner when he moved. He looked away and gave a small nod and a slight smile at the muttered thanks. "Y-yeah sure."

"Strange? Is that what you call trying to eat strangers now? Bit of an understatement, don't you think? You snarled at me and tried to eat me. And here I am making you dinner rather than _being_ your dinner." He couldn't help a small snort at Jean's admission, biting his lip after he did. That might have been a bit harsh. But it was true.

He turned a half-turn, keeping Jean in the edges of his vision as he checked on the birds boiling away. Marco wasn't about to let the other out of his sight yet. Each bird was small and so thankfully wouldn't take long to cook, but it would still be a short while.

Marco’s response made Jean bristle, growling as he glared at the other man. Jean hunched forwards and stood relatively easily for having no help of his hands, long messy hair hanging in thick strands across his features as he stood immobile for a moment. Pants tight and annoying and weird feeling but he started to move anyway, despite the way the motion and friction made him tingle.

He kept his eyes on Marco for another moment before turning his back to the other man and walking over to the bed along the wall, slumping down onto it with a heavy sigh and leaning forwards enough that his chest was pressed to his thighs. His hair spilled off of his back and over his shoulders, making puddles of messy but silken strands on the floor by his feet and the new position helped the sensation between his legs in an odd sort of way.

Realising this, Jean’s attention switched from mostly being on Marco to mostly being on his groin and he tensed his legs, pressing them together and upwards more firmly with a hitch of breath. The hands behind his back were a disadvantage but it didn’t stop his tensing and relaxing motions, rhythmic and starting to pull odd breathy noises from him.

 _Oh..._ He thought, this was… very odd. It was pleasant but somehow embarrassing and he froze. This felt weird and nice but wrong and Marco was right _there_ , and whilst Jean had no idea what was really going on with his body he realised he didn’t really want Marco to witness it either. So he remained frozen in place, catching his breath and staring at the floor between the tendrils of his puddled hair as the smell of rain and woodsmoke and boiling meat filled the room, all mingled with the very faint scent of the man who had intruded so suddenly on his solitary life.

The sound of the growl made Marco shudder despite himself. Something about how raw that sound was straddled just on the right side of the border between exciting and frightening. "Food… The food will be ready soon." He forced the words despite how they caught in his throat, making him cough slightly.

When Jean flopped down onto the bed and started… doing small movements that looked and sounded very obviously sexual, he felt his entire face flush red. He spun away quickly, finally turning his back on Jean in favour of busying himself staring at the pot on the fire. It needed no tending but it gave him something to focus on. Marco felt far too much like a teenager who'd stumbled across something salacious. Heat from the fire prickled at his skin. Or at least, he wanted to convince himself it was just heat from the fire.

Marco tried to calm himself, reminding himself of the stories he'd heard of nymphs easily seducing the unsuspecting and that the man had a nymph's heart in him. That was why his heart raced. It was just that innate appeal, that was all. It wasn't any _real_ sort of attraction. Not to some dirty half-rabid humanoid creature. Even if he did look like he could clean up nice. _No._ No. He'd keep himself focused and he'd be fine. He'd eat and be on his way again. Jean could go back to... eating unsuspecting travelers and he could go back to hunting for flowers.

The quiet of the room that followed Jeans moment of self discovery was heavy in a way he’d never experienced before. Even the unpleasant moments with his Maker hadn’t felt this smothering, _something_ pressing down on Jean and constantly bringing attention back to the other man despite his irritation that he was even here.

And the fucking _bonds_ weren’t helping. The ones on his legs may have now receded and become near unnoticeable, but the ones binding his arms behind his back were vivid and staticy and Jean couldn’t even use his familiar with them there. He had never been this open to attack before and it sat uncomfortably in his gut.

“Are you going to slay me later?” He asked after the silence stretched too long between them. “Like the books say humans do to beasts and things not like them. Even each other… You seem so angry that I took a life but isn’t that all humans do anyway? Maker said that too, if other men found me they would devour me, so I destroy them first and then I eat.” He paused to cough, his throat feeling scratchy being yet another thing to add to his list of current irritations.

Marco turned to face Jean and gawked, an indignant and surprised noise escaping him. Slay him? " _Excuse_ me? No I'm not going to _slay_ you. Not as long as you don't start trying to chew on my head again, anyway. My entire job is literally healing. That's all I do. I don't hurt people. It's counterproductive. Why would I do something like that? And why in the hell would I be feeding you if I was going to do that?" He shook his head firmly at the absurdity of the thought.

"...What sort of things have you been reading? Because that sounds pretty horrible and distorted. That's… people don't do that. People don't just go around doing that. ...Well no okay some people do kill other people for no good reason but that's not accepted, they're punished for that, it's not something you can just do. People get scared, sure, when they see something they don't understand. And yes sometimes they attack out of fear. But usually they only attack someone or something else to defend themselves. Besides you… You look human. ...I think perhaps he just wanted to scare you and keep you to himself." Marco shrugged slightly, a blush gracing the top of his cheeks despite himself.

"And I don't think anyone would _devour_ you, anyway. People don't just _eat_ other people. That's not okay. That's not something people do." Sure on occasion there were stories of people slaying magical creatures for their attributes and properties. But Marco was a genuine believer that people were generally, for the most part good. He grimaced as the thought that maybe Jean's maker didn't exactly mean it literally but rather sexually slipped through his head. He shook his head, forcing the idea away.

“I don’t know. You’re the only person I’ve talked to other than the Maker. But you’re not like him either, you’re softer and much younger. You haven’t touched me much either, his hand was always near or on me I think he liked it.” He lifted his gaze, feeling less embarrassed. “You did tie me up like he did, though Makers ropes were just on my neck.”

Jean sat up half way, still slightly hunched in on himself as he mulled over the other man’s words and questions and seeming disbelief of what Jean had told him. But that was only fair, he supposed, because Jean didn’t really believe that Marco was telling the truth about humans either. There was no way all of these books and his Maker could have been wrong and whilst Marco had knocked before entering his cottage, the other human men had kicked and used axes to get in, shouting and touching and taking things.

“All of the books, here. Except the ones for magic.” He stated simply, these were the books he had learned his view of the world from.

“So humans don’t eat each other? Or beasts? But you’re cooking some now so you _do_ eat meat.” His stomach growled then, loud in his ears over the sounds of fire and rain. Outside the windows it was almost dark and the humidity had dropped, just a little, with the encroaching night. He hung his head again as his stomach rumbled once more and he let out a small groan. “Hungry…”

Marco shuddered slightly at the idea of some creepy old man touching and thirsting over Jean. It made a flash of jealousy and disgust run through him. He made an indignant noise at being compared to the corpse in the chair in any way. "That's different! I only tied you up because you were trying to eat me. That's self defense."

He shook his head at the overly simplistic answer about the books before giving a sigh at the questions. Marco opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the loud noises of the other's stomach. He couldn't help a small laugh, shaking his head and turning to look around. The food would be done enough by now. He found a long spoon and a pair of plates that looked clean at least, wiping both down with a corner of his shirt anyway, and dished up the birds.

"Humans don't eat each other, no. That's actually really looked down upon and forbidden. Even eating magical beasts is looked down on and strongly discouraged. We eat plants and animals, but that's about it. And even then, only certain kinds of animals are eaten freely. Like birds are okay. But unless you're desperate and in danger of starving, you wouldn't eat your horse." Marco shook his head as he explained, setting the plates down on the small table.

Something occurred to him and he frowned, a blush dusting his cheeks. "Uhm… This is a little weird but I don't really… I don't trust undoing your wrists. Not yet. No offense meant, sorry. Can… Is it okay if I feed you? Or I guess one of us could eat first, but it just seems more practical."

“What does eat humans?” Jean asked, curiosity about his own hunger that only intensified when humans were around, getting the better of him.

He watched Marco getting plates that he hadn’t tried to use since before the incident with burning the flesh from his hands and felt his mouth water as the birds now cooked and pale and steaming hot were placed upon them. He shifted, decided the issue at his groin had abated mostly, though not completely, and stood up.

Jean walked over to one of the stools at the table and flopped down onto it heavily, wobbling a moment as his balance was askew from the hands behind his back. “I’m hungry so.. as long as it doesn’t hurt I don’t care.” He licked his lips, eyes darting between the food on the table and Marco’s face. “I mean… you can. I don’t mind. Sorry… you can eat first.” That was the right thing to do, right? Makers and fixers first and then the Pet can eat.

Marco hummed thoughtfully at the question before giving a small shrug. "A lot of things, really, if they have the chance. Wolves, bears, dragons even. That's why most people live in villages and cities. There's protection in numbers."

He blinked at Jean's sudden correction of himself, raising a brow. It was almost subservient in a way. Marco figured that must have been what he had been trained into. He scooted the other stool around the table so he was closer to Jean before sitting down lightly. After pulling one of the breasts apart to let it cool a bit, he picked up two pieces, one in each hand. "Jean, I wouldn't have asked if I minded either way. Now come on." A bemused smile danced across his face. He held up one piece for Jean, popping the other into his own mouth and giving a small satisfied noise.

Jean listened to Marco’s reply and mulled it over in his head. So it could be the blood coursing through him, or it could be something else. For the first time he found himself wondering if the man that had created him had left some for of list or ‘recipe’ behind somewhere, the way he’d made Jean or at least what he’d put into him.

Within what seemed like mere moments Marco had sat and divided some meat, holding a piece out for Jean in that kind, soft hand but all Jean could do for a moment was watch the way Marco ate his own bit. The noise he made sounded like he’d enjoyed it and Jean’s mouth watered again in anticipation.

He leaned over slightly and opened his mouth, causing only for a second before closing it around the meat and Marco’s fingers and thumb. He didn’t bite or use his teeth - though the urge was strong - instead sucking slightly on the digits as he pulled away before chewing with a groan. He was so hungry, it tasted so good and the added flavour of Marco’s skin had been so pleasant against his tongue.

Licking his lips after swallowing Jean closed his eyes and opened his mouth a bit, mumbling “More…” in a soft voice, the only indication he was struggling with holding himself back from biting Marco was the way his brow furrowed in the middle.

Marco flushed at the sensation of lips closing around his fingers, sucking as he pulled away. That sensation and the image sent a shiver up his spine. He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head quickly to regain his focus before plucking up another piece and offering it up to Jean's waiting mouth.

"H-here. S-so uh b-better when it's cooked?" His voice stuttered a bit as he tried to distract himself. He felt wrong for seeing something sexual in something that he had intended to be entirely practical. Then again, he was hand-feeding a restrained guy who had tried to eat him shortly before. So all in all, it was already an odd day. A few unwanted libidinous urges weren't outside the realm of normal for the day when that was the baseline.

Jean missed the other man’s reaction completely, his eyes already closed and so when the next piece of meat touched his lips he leaned in again and repeated the same action as the first time. Muffling a sound of approval as he subconsciously shifted a little closer to the edge of his stool, a little closer to Marco.

It felt good, and his hunger was sort of being helped by the cooked bird meat as well, though he still had the urge of wanting to pin Marco and bite him. Jean had started to be able to quiet the repetitive and somewhat obsessive thoughts that had overtaken him the previous times h’ed been so close to the other man. After swallowing his mouthful Jean wiggled in his seat a bit and nodded. “S’good…Tasty.”

Marco was a good human, Jean was starting to find he sort of liked him even. Although he was still irritated that he’d come into his home, tied him up and made his body do strange things. His brow quirked down for a moment before his expression returned to a more neutral sort of contentment and he opened his mouth again, this time keeping his eyes open as he pinned Marco with a focused golden stare. “More…”

Marco stifled a broken whine at the repeated sensation and the small noise Jean made. His thoughts lingered on the image of Jean's lips sliding against his skin. He felt his cheeks flush darker and his heart rate quicken. This wasn't what he expected at all. He was almost regretting not just undoing Jean's wrists and taking his chances with letting him feed himself. But he was committed to this now.

When Jean opened his eyes, Marco forgot to breathe, going still for a moment. He snapped himself out of it, hurriedly picking up the next piece and all too aware of the gaze he was being fixed with. His arm trembled slightly as he held out the next piece, trying and mostly failing to keep his breathing level and calm. "H-here."

“Are you scared?” Jean asked, genuinely curious about the sudden change in Marcos countrance. The way the other man made that small noise that sent a spike of _something_ through Jean, the changed colour on his face, the slight change in the way he was breathing. Jean observed it all but couldn’t identify the reason.

He leaned toward Marco for the third time, keeping his eyes locked on the other mans features as he ate the meat in the same manner as before and pulling back with a small string of saliva connecting them for a brief moment. A quick lap of his tongue against Marco’s fingertips -which still tasted good… - and it was gone, though.

"N-no! N-no not scared…" Marco flushed a bit darker for a moment, looking away for only a moment. He couldn't keep his eyes off the sight for long, eyes fixed on his fingers and Jean's mouth.

The curious intensity in the other's eyes was almost too much for him. When Jean's tongue darted out to lap against his fingertips, Marco couldn't stifle the small, shaky groan that escaped him with the rush of blood to his groin. His eyes went wide and he clapped his free hand over his mouth. "S-sorry…" He muttered the word quietly from behind his hand. He was sure Jean must have thought him a creep by now. Marco looked away slightly as he held out another piece. He hoped if he didn't look directly at what was happening it wouldn't affect him with as much intensity. He could hope, anyway.

Jean frowned a little. If the other man wasn’t scared then why was he suddenly acting almost … flighty. He squinted suspiciously, so he was lying or there was something else that made him react that way, that made Marco make that noise that definitely sent something violent and hot through Jean’s body and make his groin throb again. He growled again in response to that and took to sucking the meat away from Marco’s fingers a bite more forcefully, this time teeth giving the barest of scrapes against knuckle and fingertip.

“Why then.. why is your face like that and the noises and the breathing like you’re going to bolt like a rabbit.” It was asked in a level, non-threatening tone, not even a hint of teasing or amusement was there. It was pure curiosity and ignorance of the reason that spurred Jean on to ask.

“I said I won't try to bite you...” Jean flexed in his bonds and shifted a little closer once more, stool lightly scraping the floor as it moved with the jostle of his pelvis. “More.” His voice quieter now but still just as demanding as before.

Marco shuddered with another mortifying and unwelcome groan at the sound of the other growling and the teeth scraping against his skin. He stifled it behind his hand as best as he could but it was still far too audible for his liking. His eyes drifted out of focus for a moment as a series of incredibly explicit images drifted through his mind.

"F-fuck seriously?" Marco breathed out the question in disbelief. "Do you… you really d-don't know much about p-people do you…" He couldn't believe Jean didn't understand the effect he was having. But then again, if he really was one of the only people he'd ever interacted with, it wasn't entirely surprising. Still, he didn't want to be the one to have to explain it.

He steadied himself with a few slow breaths, trying to calm his racing heart as he plucked up another piece. Marco could feel his cock stirring in his pants all too acutely. Part of him almost wanted to laugh over the absurdity of getting a boner over someone who had literally tried to kill him but a much larger part was focused far too much on the here-and-now. His arm and hand trembled as he held the piece out.

Jean felt his thighs twitch in response to Marco’s groan, throbbing low again and shifting in his seat as the weird, tight discomfort began to stir in his pants once more.

“If I knew I wouldn’t ask.” Jean said in a slightly more irritable tone as he took the meat once more with his mouth, not missing the way marco’s hand and arm was trembling. Along with the irritation, some sort of regret or guilt was blossoming at causing this, and as he sat back again Jean watched Marco for another moment before bowing his head, hair falling over his shoulders and spilling down over his legs and the floor again.

“You can stop. You don’t have to if it’s making you react badly. Just eat yours.” He mumbled, almost sulking. Why the fuck did _he_ feel bad about making Marco uncomfortable, it wasn’t like Jean was discomfort free right now so it was only fair. _Shit._ The conflicting parts of him made him flex again, feeling as if he wanted to make Marco tremble and make those noises even more but also feeling that he shouldn’t, feeling bad about it.

"N-no! It's okay. It's… really okay. Really. It's not bad. It's just…" Marco spoke up quickly in an attempt to reassure Jean that it wasn't a bad thing but he spoke too quickly to give himself enough time to think of a reasonable explanation. He wasn't sure 'I'm sort of getting off on the way you're sucking on my fingers' could be said in any way that didn't make him sound like a pervert.

Marco took a piece for himself, chewing as he mulled over how to explain. Did he even _want_ to explain? Not really but he felt it was only appropriate to apologize and that meant Jean needed to know what Marco was apologizing _for_. "It's just… The way you're uhm… The way you're s-sucking on my fingers when you d-do that. It's… well it kind of looks really sexual. A-and you're… well you're part nymph, you said. Which already makes it harder…" Marco regretted his word choice and trailed off for a moment.

"Well it already makes me, or well any human really, more uhm… vulnerable to being drawn to you s-sexually. And that's… Well I mean I've kind of got you tied up in your own house so I don't exactly have any place getting a-aroused by anything you do. But it's kind of really hard to help it. So please forgive me for being a pervert and maybe just… don't… don't s-suck on my fingers like that because it's just not fair." Marco's face was bright red to the tips of his ears as he almost obsessively focused on ripping another piece of meat apart as he spoke.

Jean listened, he listened and he tried to figure out what the meaning of Marco’s words was but he could only pull a very vague idea out of the depths of his memories about ‘sex’ and it wasn’t a pleasant thing. It was what caused the mess with his Maker dying, it was scary and painful and he stared blankly at the floor. That time his body hadn’t done this, but his Maker’s body was the same as his was getting right now, so he was almost guilty of the same thing, that unpleasant, disgusting feeling.

On top of that it was Jean’s fault that the Maker had done that, he’d said so himself, and now Marco had told him _because he’s partly nymph_ . “I won't hurt you like that.. sex. Is painful right, so I won't. Like I won't eat you. You fixed me. so eat, I don’t… I don’t need that any more.” Jean said flatly and then stood. It was weird, _he_ was weird and he shouldn’t feel bad about it because this man was a stranger in _his_ home but he did and that felt bad.

Jean glared at his feet for a moment before turning around and looking up to his hammock in the rafters. There was no way he could get there with his bindings but he wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed, so he grunted and moved to sit on the floor in the corner.

Marco stared blankly for a minute, blinking in confusion at Jean's reaction. It wasn't until the other had already walked away that his brain caught up. "What… I… Jean?"

He turned in his seat to face where Jean was sitting, not sure if he should approach the other or not. His words were quiet and calm when he spoke again, picking his words carefully. "...What kinds of hell have you been through? Sex… isn't supposed to hurt. It's… well frankly the flat out opposite of that. It's euphoric. If it's hurt you that's… that's not how it's supposed to be done. That's a terrible awful violation." Well, mostly anyway, though certain kinds of sex did tend to straddle that line quite firmly in Marco's experience. But that was too complex for this situation.

Marco let out a slow exhale of air. He knew no one would use nymph parts without lewd intentions. But to violate that nature and make someone with nymph features think of sex as something bad? Marco knew it that must have been a terrible thing. Suddenly he didn't feel as conflicted about the skeleton in the armchair. If anything, the corpse was too comfortable, as far as he was concerned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I should just leave. I'm sure my coat is dry enough by now."

Jean frowned at his feet and wiggled his toes as Marco explained that sex wasn’t meant to feel bad, it was meant to feel the opposite. He wondered what it was like to feel that way, but in the same breath he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want a repeat of last time regardless of if he was on the receiving end or not.

“Don’t leave!” Jean squawked out when Marco suggested he should. Pausing with his mouth still open and eyes wide in shock at the unplanned outburst. The thought of being alone again was suddenly sickeningly unappealing to Jean, he hadn’t known humans could be this way and he hadn’t known he’d react so strongly at the prospect of living on solitude again.

“I mean, it’s raining. It’s still raining.” He curled tighter into himself, would have wrapped his arms around his knees if he’d been able. But instead they were still pulled tight behind his back and pressed against the sharp edges of the shelves of books that met behind him at 90 degrees. “I won't hurt you, I won't move.. I won't even talk. So, you can stay.”

He was still hungry, he still wanted _Marco_ in a weird sort of _different_ way but he wasn’t mindless with it.

Marco paused, already halfway to standing up when Jean spoke up. He settled back into his seat slowly, a curious look on his face. Nodding slightly, Marco gave a small smile. He had to admit the idea of walking in the dark and the rain wasn't at all appealing. And if Jean actually wanted him to stay… Maybe it wasn't a terrible idea.

"Alright… Thank you. But not if you do the not moving and not talking part. That would be creepy. And if I'm staying, you're going to have to eat a bit more too. I don't need you deciding I'm a midnight snack, okay?" His tone was serious but still much more friendly than earlier.

Hesitating slightly, Marco let out a breath, guiding the restraints around Jean's wrists to release from each other. They dimmed, glowing soft and idle to match those on his legs. Marco wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not but at least this way they could avoid the whole awkward eating mess. He held up a hand in warning. "You even _think_ about attacking me and you'll be spending the night curled up in a very uncomfortable ball, at the very least. Got it? Do not cross me." His words held an air that was less a threat and more a promise.

Jean was relieved when Marco said he’d stay, the weird knot of anxious sadness ebbing away to nothing as the other man’s voice carried on. Soothing and warm and Jean decided he liked the way it sounded, even when it wasn’t making those strange, leasing noises.

He wasn’t expecting the restraints to be loosed, however, and he blinked in surprise before letting out a groan of appreciation as his arms dropped and then he wrapped them around himself tightly, stretching his muscles out in the opposite direction from which they’d been stuck in for so long.

“Thank you!” Jean said, mood completely lifted as he jumped up with more energy than he’d shown thus far - apart from the initial attack - and leapt onto the stool at the table. Jean didn’t wait before pulling his plate closer to him and picking up a whole bird carcass from it to bite into, the clear juices running down his chin as he ate like something starved. Fingers dark with dirt easily snapping the bone of a leg in his haste and he adjusted his grip so it didn’t outright crush the thing.

Marco leaned back in surprise and a slight bit of panic as Jean lept up before relaxing as he settled onto the stool. Marco's eyes widened as he watched him dig into the bird with ravenous zeal, a slight half-laugh escaping him. "Whoah there… Calm down a little. It's not going to fly away if you don't eat it fast enough."

The easy snap of the bone was slightly unsettling but Marco chose to not dwell on it. Instead, he picked at his own food, tearing it apart with his hands before taking small, easy bites. He kept his guard up, still not entirely convinced Jean wouldn't turn on him as soon as the bird was picked clean. But still, Marco couldn't help noticing how much more cheerful the other was now. And surely that had to be a good sign.

“M’hungry.” Jean said again, as if he hadn’t already mentioned the fact so many times already. He didn’t slow down, though, and he finished the bird shortly after Marco had told him to take his time eating it.

His lips and chin were covered in juices and Jean put what was left of the carcass down on the plate before bringing his hands up to lick and suck on his fingers, drawing his tongue up the side of his palm in a long, slow motion to make sure he removed all of it.

He watched as he cleaned his hands, licking at his lips and wiping at his chin as Marco ate his own food. Marco was… soft… looking. Not really _physically_ speaking but there was something about him that was a stark contrast to the life and people Jean had come across this far. He stopped what he was doing and let his hands drop to his lap, head tilting to the slide slightly as he watched Marco and pondered why he would sort of _want_ the other man’s company. Despite the stories he’d been told and read of.

Whilst it was true that Marco had fixed him - his face at least - it could also be true that he’d be attacked, Marco could change his mind and decide he wanted to hurt Jean for whatever reason. That made him a bit anxious, knowing that he could be restrained so easily by this man when before no one had come close to overpowering him was unnerving and sent strange shivers of anticipation and unease through him.

Marco tried, _really_ tried, to not gawk at the way Jean cleaned himself of the juices. He _tried_ to focus on his own food. But he couldn't help himself, stealing glances as his face flushed darker each time. When the other man licked up the side of his palm so damned slowly, Marco nearly swooned. He mentally reprimanded himself, wishing few things more than for his cock to stop twitching in his pants over the smallest things like some hormonal teenager.

When he glanced over again, Jean had stopped the frustrating motions and was staring at him instead. Being under his curious gaze was slightly unnerving. Marco couldn't help but wonder what the other was thinking about and whether it involved his internal organs not remaining internal. He shuddered at the thought before clearing his throat.

"You're staring at me." It was part observation and part question when Marco spoke. "I uhm… _why_ are you staring at me? I can't possibly be that interesting." The concept of 'unless you're trying to figure out how to eat me' that his brain helpfully supplied stayed unspoken.

“The way you look is nice.” Jean said simply and honestly. Not unaware of the slightly skittish countenance the Marco was displaying but also not particularly minding it since he himself was still suspicious of the other man’s motives.  He didn’t break away from his full body inspection of Marco, and somehow he was aware that the other was in a slightly less than normal state below the belt and he wasnt sure how that made him feel.

“You look soft and you smell like the rain you don’t smell like the other humans that came in here. You don’t look like them either. And you didn’t break my door.” Jean couldn’t help leaning in closer to Marco, personal space and boundaries apparently not something he was too aware of.

Jean lifted a hand a pressed it to the left side of Marco’s chest without warning then, the look on his face curiously thoughtful. “You’re not a female right? You’re too different from those other males but you don’t have the things here that the pictures in the books do.” His hand began to dip lower, fingers sliding down over clothed ribs in a very obvious direction. “So that’s definitely a dick?”

Marco blinked at the oddly blunt compliment. "Uhm… Thanks I think? ...Break your door? What kind of idiots have come by here? That seems needlessly savage." He never ceased to be surprised by how frequently humans acted more like beasts. But the way he smelled? That was definitely the strangest comment he'd ever been given. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

When Jean leaned in, Marco scooted back only slightly, heart picking up speed. The sudden hand pressing against his chest made him jump. "I ahm… no, no definitely not a female." Marco squeaked when Jean's hand started moving downwards, grabbing his wrist gently to stop him. As much as that movement felt good, he couldn't just let Jean start feeling him up. "Last time I checked, yes. But you can't just go fondling someone!"

Jean blinked as his hand was stopped and looked up from where his eyes had been following it’s movement. Brows lifting in question at Marco’s actions and words. “Why? Does it hurt? I didn’t mean that..” He pulled away, easily breaking Marco’s grasp on his wrist and letting it drop back down to his own lap.

He leaned in closer, enough that his nose was almost touching the tip of Marco’s, drawn to the other man and closing his eyes as that warmth, hunger, _want_ washed over him but different from before now he’d eaten. He frowned a little before mumbling almost heatedly. “You make me feel weird.”

Then Jean pulled back and stood up, fidgeting with his pants for a moment as if they were uncomfortable and then he turned and jumped upwards. Arms stretched up and easily pulling himself into to the rafters where he had been when Marco entered the one roomed abode though a soft grunt of exertion escaped him.

“It’s dark now, so sleep here. The bed, I don’t use that and it’s clean so have it. Read some books or something just… just don’t hurt them.” Of course he meant damage them, but to Jean a ripped page was the same as cut skin though they weren’t living, it made sense to call it that.

He walked easily across the beams, balance catlike as he made his way over to the large hammock he slept in and jumped into it amongst the blankets and feather pillows. The beams creaking in protest momentarily at the impact but then turning silent once more.

Marco found himself too stunned into silence to respond to Jean's question. He wanted to protest, to correct him that it didn't hurt but that it was just something private and intimate, but he couldn't form the words. It didn't help that Jean was leaning in towards him like that. He was so _close_ Marco could feel the heat of his breath against his skin and it made him shiver slightly, forgetting to breathe. Marco found himself almost dizzy with how badly he wanted to just close that gap and kiss him.

But then Jean was gone. Marco stared blankly for a moment before deflating. This was just cruel. He watched the impressive display of strength and agility, impressed. Marco glanced at the bed, gathering that it hadn't been used since its previous owner had died. The idea of sleeping in the bed of someone who's skeleton was only a short distance away was unnerving. But he was also so tired.

"Just checking, you're not gonna start gnawing on my spleen in my sleep, right?" Marco tried to keep his words light before he yawned despite himself. He stood with a small groan, stretching and realizing how tense his muscles were.

Jean was buried in his nest of covers but when Marco asked the question he sighed. “Even if I was you’d wake up before I penetrated that deep into you.” He yawned, breaking his speech for a moment. “I wont. I’m not hungry in _that_ way any more. So I wont.”

Jean lapsed into silence, wondering if he would remain true to his word or if the hunger would come back and overtake him. He’d make sure to hunt something when he woke up, that would fix the issue for sure… just like the birds Marco had gotten for him tonight.

It was strange, and it was nice to have someone else here. Someone that wasn’t trying to hurt him or take things and was just _being_. Warm and kind and soft and Jean wrapped his arms around one of his plush pillows and buried his face in it as he yawned again and  listened to the soft sound of rain and the fire popping. Marco was nice. He liked Marco and Jean began to fall asleep more easily than he had in a long, long time as the man below went about his business.

"Somehow that's not exactly comforting…" Marco muttered the words quietly with a small shake of his head. Still, it was something. He stretched the kinks out of his muscles before wandering over to the shelves of books and vials.

Marco wondered if he could find out more about what parts had gone into Jean's creation. Or, at least, maybe he could figure out more about why Jean's perspective of people was so distorted. He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to know, it wasn't like it really mattered, but still he wanted to. The other man was something of a puzzle. And it made him curious.

He poked and prodded amongst the shelves for some time, finding more questions than answers. One conclusion that he was sure of was that the guy who had 'built' Jean was twisted, with no respect for decency or morals. And that perhaps Jean read too many fairy tales with their dramatic exaggerations and grandiose nature.

When Marco couldn't keep himself awake any longer, he gave in, curling up on the bed. He kept himself upright, curled against the wall, just in case. It seemed like Jean was… better after he'd eaten but his arms wrapped defensively around himself as he dozed off into a light sleep nonetheless.


	3. Callow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets a shocking awakening, Jean is betrayed by his body, and things get a little more heated.

Jean slept soundly, though not deeply. His mind and body alert enough that should he be attacked he’d be able to defend himself. He had slept that way since shortly after his Makers demise and anything like deep sleep was a mere memory.

When the very first rays of light started to make the gloom outside less impenetrable and the fire was long since embers in the fireplace, Jean opened his eyes and arched his back in a stretch. Groaning quietly before sitting up and peering over the edge of the hammock to where Marco was sleeping propped against the wall.

The other man was slumped oddly and it looked uncomfortable but he seemed well enough asleep and Jean quietly jumped down from his bed and stood, watching Marco for a long moment before his stomach growled and he bit down hard on his lower lip. He wanted to touch Marco, he just had a need to do so that was impossible to ignore and he held himself back from it by taking a step away. Followed by another.

It wasn’t much longer before he was quietly leaving the cottage into the still mostly dark dawn to hunt something to eat. For now the rain had stopped and the soil was wet and soft and his feet sank into it in places, the smells were vibrant and fresh and Jean spent over an hour outside before coming back in.

Covered from fingertips to elbow in blood and then some where it was painting his chest in a smattering of red. Around his mouth was red too, thick blood dripping before he wiped the back of his hand across his chin, smearing it but not really getting rid of any as his hands were coated. He’d refilled the cauldron with water from the small stream nearby and re-lit the fire with ease, but now he was frozen. Standing in-front of the hearth messy and full with rabbit and badger meat but he was still clinging to the skinned corpse of a hare that he’d bought back for Marco.

The other man had given him food the night before, he’d fixed him and Jean wanted to repay that in kind. But he was glaring at the pot like it was going to attack him and he’d ended up in a sort of standoff between his nerves and his need to please his guest.

Marco stirred when the scent of the re-lit fire drifted into his consciousness. "Mnh?" Marco stretched slowly before remembering where he was and suddenly feeling much more alert. He blinked, looking around quickly before his eyes fell on Jean.

A very bloody Jean glaring at the pot over the fire as if it had done him a personal offense was not at all a reassuring thing to wake up to. Marco scrambled farther against the wall, instinctively patting himself down from the bizarre half-asleep wondering if that blood was his.  "What the fuck!?"

His eyes fell on the skinned animal in Jean's grip and he let out a slow breath, calming slightly and stretching out a bit. Not his blood. Good. "Sorry. You uh… want some help with that?" His tone was almost sheepish. Panicked screaming at the person who'd let him have shelter for the night probably wasn't the best way to start his day.

Jean almost dropped the hare when Marco woke and exclaimed his shock rather colourfully. Luckily he managed to tighten his grip instead and he felt the spine snap in his palm with an impressive cracking noise. His eyes were instantly on the seemingly afraid man on the bed and he stared at him blankly for a long moment as Marco calmed down and finally asked if he wanted some help.

“N...no I can do it. You fed me so I can do it for you.” Jean said, turning back to the pot with a frown before finally just shoving the animal's corpse into the water, his hand and all. He let go after it was in and pulled his hand back out, not outwardly reacting to the pain but inwardly hating the fucking pot and it’s stupid bubbling water and why couldn’t Marco eat it fresh and dripping.

He wiped his hand free of the remnants of water, skin red and blisters popping from the added friction as he swiped his palm across his thigh. “I don’t know how long that will take to be like the birds last night. I’ve never done it before.”

Marco scrambled off the bed in an instant when he saw Jean just shove his hand into the water. His eyes were wide and he was suddenly much more awake. He reached out without hesitation, grabbing Jean's arm carefully and lifting it to inspect the damage. What kind of person just shoved their hand into hot water?

"What the hell did you do that for!? You don't put your arm in the water! Don't you have any sense? You're trying to cook the meat, not your hand! This is why spoons exist! Knives even!" He fussed, fretting over the injuries. No wonder Jean had asked him that weird question about cooking the evening before. He thought that not sticking your flesh in boiling water was common sense, but apparently not.

Marco's head snapped up, looking Jean sternly in the eyes. "Table. Sit. Now. You're a hazard to yourself. I'll fix your hand and then take care of this." He hesitated, realizing he was maybe being a bit harsh. His gaze softened and he gave a sigh, letting go of Jean's arm and gesturing towards the table. "I… Sorry. I appreciate the effort. Really. But… not at the expense of your well being. I can take care of this. Okay?" He didn't want anyone getting hurt on his account. Not for some absurd reason, especially.

Jean physically jerked in surprise at Marco’s reaction and the way the other man was suddenly at his side, touching him, yelling at him. Instantly he was torn between wanting to snarl and grab Marco by the neck and a weird sort of hot embarrassment and fluttering in his belly. Luckily the confusion won over his fight instinct this time and he ended up sort of stumbling over to the table in a mild state of shock.

Marco didn’t have to go that far, being worried, touching him… _close to him._ “I-I..It doesn’t hurt.” He squarked out. _It did._ “It’s ok. I’m fine.” _He wasn’t._

Jean could ignore the way his hand was stinging and throbbing and burning, but apparently he couldn’t ignore the burning in his face. Embarrassment? Something else? He couldn’t quite decide and so he sat, somewhat awkwardly, with his hands in his lap and his back rigid like a child that was being scolded.

Marco crossed his arms in disbelief, crossing over to the table as well. He perched himself on the edge of the table rather than a stool, both for the effect of the added height and the convenience. "Mhm. I'm sure. Those blisters don't hurt at all right? You're completely fine. Obviously. Totally impervious."

He sighed slightly, shaking his head. It was a shame Jean was so caked in blood. He probably would have been cute with that flush to his face otherwise. Marco blinked at the thought, shoving it to the side. No, that was a weird thing to think. He forced himself to focus instead, holding out his hands for Jean to put his between them. The dragon on the back of his hand already spun slowly to life, waiting, the hot crackling of his skin itching to open the void. His face slipped into a small reassuring smile, the picture of perfect bedside manner. "Come on then, give me your hand already, you stubborn thing. It's okay."

“Hmf.” Jean looked away as Marco sat on the table looking down on him, glaring at the wall and sort of pouting, just a bit. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eyes, watched Marco’s hands open and wait for him soft and gentle and Jean flinched again at the twinge of _something_ in his guts.

He almost reluctantly lifted his burned hand when Marco prompted him with words, reaching out and letting it hover in the air above the other man's outstretched palms. Marco’s smell was already making his chest feel warm and his groin feel hot and he really didn’t like the strange new feeling that he apparently had no control over. Was he sick? Had Marco done something to him with that binding magic because that’s when it had all started.

Chewing his lower lip, Jean lifted his free hand to cover his face and ended up smearing more of the red blood over his cheek and brow bone as it hid his eyes from view. It wasn’t raining, so he’d have to go to the stream to get the blood off this time, and change his clothing… and maybe this time he’d use that strong smelling soap that was left over from master even though it sort of made his nostrils burn from the vivid scent of sandalwood and whatever else was in it.

But Jean wanted… sort of… to be a bit more like Marco. Who was clean and fresh and smelled good and made Jean want to bury his face in his hair and against his neck and press his body close…

"There we go. Just hold still." Marco's tone was gentle as he let out a slow breath, calling out to the void to draw the injury away into itself. He felt the familiar crackle of warmth and tingling electricity that he knew would flare before ebbing and fading away over the course of a few minutes. It was only a scalding injury, simple and easy, the blisters fading away as though they'd never been.

If anything, the difficult part for Marco was keeping his eyes on the task at hand. He couldn't help glancing at Jean's face, watching as he worried his lip, eyes hidden. Despite himself, his smile slipped from reassuring to something more fond. He had to admit, the effort Jean had put in was flattering. He'd brought food to offer to him. Even if he was foolish when it came to the mechanics of cooking.

Impulsively, Marco closed his hands around Jean's now uninjured one as the void slipped shut. He couldn't help himself. The temptation was too close to resist. "There. That's better, isn't it? No more hands in boiling water though, okay?"

Jean did as he was told and held still as Marco healed him, the warm tingle of the magic making his hand buzz and the feeling traveled a short way up his arm before dissipating and then finally ebbing away to nothing as Marco finished. What jean wasn’t expecting, however, was the warmth of Marco’s hands closing around his and he pulled his other hand away from his eyes to blink down at where their palms were joined. Warm and comfortable.

He didn’t pull away from it, he didn’t even dislike it. Instead Jean found himself gently wrapping his own fingers down and around the curve of Marco’s palm as much as he could, returning the hold with an almost shyness.

“Thank you…” His voice came out soft and quiet as Jean lifted his free hand and made to place it on-top of Marco’s, but paused and drew it away when he saw the amount of blood still covering it. Somehow it seemed wrong to taint Marco like that.

Feeling his heart starting to stutter strange and hard in his chest, Jean stood and reluctantly pulled his hand away. “I… I need to… go and get this off…” He said looking down at himself before abruptly turning and stiffly walking over to the shelf near the hearth. An iron tub propped there for bathing but Jean ignored that and instead grabbed the bar of soap and his only other pair of trousers and quickly left the cottage for the stream.

Marco was pleasantly surprised when Jean didn't pull away. The feeling of the hold being returned made his smile grow as he found the other's shyness charming in a way. He scolded himself slightly for it but he couldn't care too much. It was a far cry from their first interactions and it bloomed a warmth in his chest. He found himself thinking that perhaps Jean wasn't so bad after all.

"I… yeah, right, of course." Marco replied blinking at his now empty hands for a moment. He watched Jean grabbing things before disappearing out the door suddenly. When he was alone, he deflated with a sigh. Marco slipped off the table onto the stool and buried his face in his arms against the table, cursing both himself and Jean quietly.

If it wasn't one thing it was another but the collection of almost-meaningful moments over the time he'd been at the cottage was growing and driving Marco mad. The worst part was that Jean didn't even seem to realize the effect he had. Marco knew he had to leave soon or else he risked being too drawn in to pull himself away. But at the same time the idea of leaving Jean alone again to devolve back into something so instinctive and vicious seemed… wrong. And at the least, Marco wasn't bored for the first time in quite some time.

Once outside, Jean let himself panic a little bit. His pace was fast as he approached the stream and he dropped the clean trousers on a tree branch before placing the soap on a rock at the edge. Modesty was something he didn’t have when it came to bathing here, no one was ever around, and a body was a body to Jean - however… Marco’s body would be…

He slapped his cheeks hard with his palms before yanking off his pants in one swift motion. There was no reason Marco’s body would be any different from any other human he’d eaten or even his own body… Jean glanced down, blushing at how his pale skin was flushed with embarrassment and how his dick hung heavier than usual between his legs, slightly swollen and twitching from how close Marco had just been.

With a confused growl Jean sat in the knee deep water and splashed it over himself until he was soaked and the water was running red with the blood. The soap felt slippery and unusual in his hands as he lathered it and rubbed it over his body, scrubbing at his hair for a long while before smearing slick bubbles over his chest and lower. Gasping and unable to resist groping at himself as the sensation made a hot, pleasant feeling flare between his legs. “Nhgh… w-what..the fuck…” He repeated the shocked phrase Marco had shouted not too long ago and curled in on himself again as he gave another fumbling squeeze to his growing erection.

Marco ran his hands through his hair in frustration, tugging at the strands close to his head. "Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck!" He muttered the string of curses to himself before getting up and pacing the space. His arms crossed across himself, gripping tightly at opposing forearms.

He wanted to stick around, to find out more about this guy. Something about him, whether it was just the effect of his nymph parts or something else, was puzzling. And Marco wanted to know more. He wanted to help Jean figure out the basic things he was missing as well. The guy didn't even know how to cook for himself. But would Jean even want that? He'd seemed determined enough to not let him leave the night before. He'd even brought him food this morning. But was that just some weird sense of hospitality? That wouldn't make much sense considering the lack of awareness of any other social graces, he supposed. But he couldn't exactly just say 'hey would you mind if I stayed a while longer'.

And besides that, it would be entirely masochistic of him to stay. Jean was torturing him at every turn with frustration and not even realizing it. And when it was pointed out, Jean acted like it was a bad thing he should be ashamed of. And it was driving Marco mad. The urge to touch him, to reach out, was so strong, increasingly so. But he couldn't… _shouldn't_ do anything about it. Not when Jean reacted the way he did to the concept of anything he felt might make Marco 'uncomfortable', tip-toeing around him at any perceived slight. But there was still that draw. Even when the other man was covered in blood, Marco had felt his heart flutter at the small gesture of Jean returning the hold of his hand.

"Fuck… I'm fucked either way…" Marco flushed, flopping back onto a stool at his poor word choice. No, a distinct lack of fucks was entirely the problem. He gave a pathetic groan, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He would eat and then be on his way, he decided. He had to. He couldn't resist long otherwise. It was for the best. Even if he didn't want to.

Jean hadn’t planned to spend this long washing, he’d planned to be in and washed and out in less time than it took to boil the pot of water over the fire… but he was still here and he was still haltingly grabbing at himself. Breaths coming quick and heavy now, leaning back on one hand whilst the other groped at the stiff flesh between his spread, trembling legs.

It felt good, his body was hot and throbbing and tingling and _good_ and he couldn’t help the noises pressing out of him that he’d never made before. Never heard any other thing make either. But he was also afraid. It was weird and intense and his body wasn’t _supposed_ to be like this, it wasn’t usually like this. As the pressure and intensity built Jean began to feel more anxious and he yanked his hand away with a whining sob and curled into a ball in the chilled water.

The sun was high enough now that there was light all around and the humidity had started to climb again, his skin warm and heavily flushed where it wasn’t touching the cold of the water.

Growling and washed Jean stood up and threw a rock in irritation, then kicked at the water, and then his familiar burst into existence behind him and shattered a rotting tree that had been jutting from the ground. Why was his body like this, why did Marco make him this way what had the other man _done_ to him!? Why did he sort of _like_ it and yet it felt wrong at the same time.

Panting and dripping wet, erection only half disappeared, Jean climbed out of the stream and twisted his hair to remove as much of the water as possible. His familiar had disappeared and his temper was slightly less volatile as his heart rammed in his chest and his legs trembled from the lack of release his body had been craving and expecting even if his mind had not been.

He pulled his new, clean pants on and tied the laces at the crotch tight before picking up the soap and the dirty trousers and walking back to the cottage, chest still flushed and heaving as he slammed the door open and threw the items onto a shelf next to it.

Marco's ears perked at the sound of splintering wood but it wasn't until the door slammed open that he bolted upright, jerking to a standing position. His eyes took in the state of the other man, from the dampness of his skin to the flush of his chest to the way his breaths came hard. Marco could only picture that look in a distinctly _different_ context. Very vividly. Too vividly. His cock gave a firm throb at the idea. Even the irate look on Jean's face somehow managed to go straight to his dick. Well fuck.

"Mnh?" Marco squeaked out the pathetic half-whine half-question, one hand gripping tight at the table. He cleared his throat with a small flush of embarrassment before trying to speak again. "E-everything okay…? You uh… you alright?"

Marco was just standing there and Jean already wanted to grab at him. The way the other man was gripping the table looking wary and shocked and his face tinged with just a hint of red. The words made sense to him this time but Jean ignored them, didn’t respond except to take a stride towards Marco, then another.

Then he all but pounced and grabbed Marco hard by the shoulders, slamming him down onto the table and leaning over him in a half straddle, one knee lifted and pressing against the tabletop beside Marco’s hip as he loomed over the other man. Panting and flushed and _irritated_.

“What did you do to me.” He growled harshly, wet hair dripping into puddles on the table. “It’s your fault you made my body weird what did you do to it!?” He tightened his grip on Marco’s shoulders without thought to how hard he was actually doing it, his other knee lifting until he was perched completely on the table, Marco bent back over it between his legs.

Marco yelped when he was suddenly being pinned to the table. He winced from the impact, heart hammering in his throat. His brain struggled to catch up, processing. Jean was pinning him to the table. Jean was pissed off. Jean was straddling him. Jean was pinning him to the table and straddling him. Adrenaline that was equal parts fear and a bizarre arousal flooded his veins.

The tight grip on his shoulders made him wince again, kicking his brain into gear enough to flare the bonds on Jean's wrists and thighs back into a stronger state of being, tightening suddenly. But he couldn't bring himself to bind them together. His brain screamed at him that he needed to get the other off of him _now_ . But _fuck_ Jean was on top of him, flushed and panting and with that _look_ and oh fuck Marco really hoped Jean didn't notice how hard he was right now.

"Wh-what are you talking about!?" He managed to gasp out the words. They were more breathy than he would have liked but still audible and that was enough. "I didn't _do_ anything! What the fuck do you mean weird!?"

When Marco tightened the bonds on his limbs Jean gasped and shuddered at the sensation. The noise that escaped him at the action was strangled and breathy and Jean’s fingers flexed as he hunched down to try and quell the re-awakening throb in his crotch, forehead pressed hard against Marco’s sternum.

“That thing! T-that… ngh.” Marco was warm and smelled good and the way his thighs felt constricted all of a sudden felt so nice. His dick throbbed again and another hitched sort of noise burst from Jean as he shuddered. “S-stop it… stop it… stop it make it stop.. make it go away...it’s weird.. I’m weird!” Jean started to panic a bit, being bound - though not completely - and Marco denying doing anything and being so close and so warm and so firm.

Jean couldn’t help the simultaneous action of grinding down against Marco and the stuttering flicker of his familiar materialising and disappearing behind him like a candle flame in the wind.

Marco flushed when Jean pressed his forehead against his chest, breath catching in his throat. His heart hammered hard enough he was sure the other man could hear it easily. The noise Jean made went straight to Marco's dick, pulsing in the confines of his pants. He clenched his fists, stifling a small whine.

"Stop what!? I'm not doing anything! I haven't--" He was cut off by the sudden sensation of Jean grinding against him. A low broken moan that he couldn't stifle slipped from his lips as he tried to keep from arching into the motion and _oh fuck_ now he understood. He swallowed hard, picking his words carefully as he tried to focus on his words over the incessant throbbing of his dick. "J-jean… You're hard. That's… not weird. It's okay. It's just a boner… It h-happens."

Jean decided Marco really _was_ doing this to him, that noise he made just made him throb more, ache more _want more._ He felt like he couldn’t move his arms and legs with how the restraints were tight on them, even though they weren't tied together this time, the tingle of power was strong and real and Jean whimpered almost brokenly at Marco’s words.

“Not to _me_!” Still trembling he shifted again on-top of Marco and pressed his face against the other man's chest, words muffled. “It’s never happened… it’s your fault. Stop it. I.. I dun wanna be like that I dun wanna be like the Maker was it hurts I don’t like it!” The arms behind him stopped flickering and came down to slam on the table above Marco’s head. Large clawed fingers wrapping around the edge of the table and splintering it with a brittle cracking noise.

Marco squeaked out a yelp when the arms slammed down above him, the splintering sound of wood making him flinch. He yanked the wrist bindings to the thigh bindings, forcing Jean's wrists to his legs, unsure if it would snap the familiar away as it had when he'd bound Jean's wrists together but at least it was something.

His tone was warning but still annoyingly breathless when he spoke. "Jean… I really don't want to have to bind you again. I don't. You can get off of me and I'll leave if that's what you want. But you can _not_ throw a tantrum because you've never had a boner before. Especially when you've given me _several_ over the past day. Now I'm sorry if I turn you on and that freaks you out but you have _nymph_ in you for fuck's sake. They're _known_ for sexual _pleasure_ and _lust_ . Sooner or later you're going to have to deal with the fact that sex is not bad and that it is fucking _normal_ and can feel _good_ and that normal people _seek it out_ for that reason. Now can you please just fucking relax?"

He shifted himself slightly, accidentally rubbing against Jean as he did so. Marco stifled his groan as best as he could. He was all too aware of how much risk there was in this situation but he was also irritatingly aware of how his cock hadn't wilted in the slightest.

The monstrous arms dissipated when Jean’s wrists were yanked down to bind to his thighs, the feeling making him even more aroused and uneasy and Jean shuddered violently as Marco berated him.

He took the words in, he knew it felt good - at least for him and at least so far - but he also remembered how it felt for that thing to be forced inside of his body and how everything had broken and ended and he was left alone. “Don’t lea-hnnnm!” About to tell Marco not to go, Jean was cut short with a groan of his own in response to Marco’s shifting and the noise of pleasure he made.

Almost fully hard in the way too tight cage of his pants it hadn’t taken much for Jean to get close to the point he’d been at in the stream before stopping, unable to get fully erect due to the confines. Marco felt so much nicer than his hand had though, the firm expanse of his body beneath and the scent and the noises. The way he could press his face into the other man's chest and gasp and jerk his hips down clumsily to gain a firm, rolling pressure where his body craved it the most.

“Dont ghoo ...mnh… I I’m sorry dont…” The ‘different’ hunger was back again, roiling and bubbling harshly inside him and Jean arched his back to press the length of his body against Marco’s as much as he could when his wrists were bound to his thighs. Head tilting back until his chin was resting on Marco’s shoulder and Jean was staring at the tabletop, black hair tickling his cheek.

Marco let out a shaky sigh of relief when the arms above his head dissipated into nothingness. One concern was gone, at least. His breath hitched slightly at the sensation of Jean's body shuddering against his. Jean's groan made his cock twitch and strain at the fabric of his pants. He wanted so badly to hear more of those noises and whatever other noises the man could make.

"Nh… fuck…" He shuddered at how Jean pressed against him. It felt too good; he wanted more. Marco couldn't stop his hips from rolling again at the sensation. He hesitated slightly before bringing his hands up, settling them lightly and cautiously against Jean's sides. It was clear the other man didn't know _what_ he wanted, but it was also clear how hard they both were.

Jean ached enough that he thought he’d break, his dick was gonna burst and Marco was gonna leave and Jean didn’t want to be alone again. He hadn’t realised how quiet and depressing it was here for all that time with no one else near him.

“Don’t leave… help..me Marco mn.” Marco rolling his hips made Jean press his back in response even harder, heart hammering hard enough to ache from tense anxiety and arousal. When the other man’s hands found their way to his sides Jean stiffened and whimpered and shuddered harshly as his both wanted to run away and grind himself violently against Marco.

Instead, all he did was tense his thighs either side of the other man, squeezing him between them as he panted open mouthed against the side of Marco’s neck. The urge to bite him was very, very real and Jean pressed his open mouth to the pulsing vein he could see under the flesh, teeth scraping briefly before he growled and bit his own lip hard enough to bleed instead.

He didn’t _want_ to hurt Marco. Thick purple blood dripped down onto the table and Jean pressed his face against the other man’s shoulder as he flexed and started to dry hump Marco clumsily, smearing the hot blood on the other man’s clothing.

Marco groaned at the sensation of Jean's thighs squeezing around him. He stiffened only slightly when he felt the other's mouth against his neck, heart racing. A small keening noise escaped him at the feeling of teeth and the sound of the growl, his hands gripping tighter at Jean's sides.

"S-sure… Wh-whatever you want…" Marco muttered the words almost incoherently with a small nod. All he could think could boil down to _Jean_ and _more_. The other man filled his thoughts and senses in a way that was overwhelming but intoxicating both at once.

When Jean started humping him, Marco let out a moan. His hands clenched on Jean's sides before starting to move slowly up and down, taking in the sensation of his skin. It was… different, weird even, soft, and in any other context he would have been curious. But all he could think in the moment was how he wanted to feel it more, to feel their bodies pressed together without so much unnecessary fabric. He groaned, rolling his hips more firmly, pace calm and smooth compared to Jean's haphazard clumsy movements. His cock ached painfully within his pants but he didn't dare think to break them apart for something like that. He didn't dare risk breaking this moment.

Jean pressed his fingers  harshly into his own thighs where he was bound, it was awkward to move this way let alone when you didn’t know what you were doing. All he could do was follow what his body was telling him it craved, and right now that was pressure and friction and oh _god_ Marco’s hands on him felt good.

The table creaked and groaned beneath them as Jean moved, the noise louder when Marco began to move too and Jean could cry with how much his cock throbbed and ached inside his pants. It was pretty painfully uncomfortable and he wished he’d left them undone or at least done up normally instead of wrapping the laces so damn tightly around his pelvis.

Jean mouthed at Marco’s shoulder as they moved and his breathing became more laboured, the other man’s shirt getting damp with saliva and blood and Jean bit down on the fabric hard to muffle a louder sound of need. Luckily not biting into flesh as well. “H-urts.” Jean muffled the word out brokenly and flexed against the bindings, wanting to free his hands so he could undo the godforsaken laces at his crotch.

Marco was almost dizzy from the overwhelming sensations and the sounds Jean was making. He could hardly think, even. Hesitating only briefly, he muttered an apology before releasing the wrist bindings from Jean's legs. The other didn't seem like a threat in the current setting and he sounded so _needy_.

"B-better?" Marco asked the question between short, shallow breaths. The risk of having Jean's arms free was slightly worrying. But he couldn't find it in him to dwell on it. Instead, he moved one hand from where it had been ghosting along Jean's ribs to undo his own pants. It was too much to resist and he gasped out a relieved groan at the sudden decreased restriction, back arching slightly.

Jean stayed in his position for just a moment after his wrists were released before shuddering again and sitting upright in one quick, slightly drunk seeming motion. Swaying slightly from the sudden position change he lifted himself from Marco’s waist for as the other man undid his pants and Jean watched, groaning at the way that made him feel.

“Yeah… mhn.” Then Jean’s hands were pulling at his own pants, yanking the laces out of their bow and gasping in relief as the pants loosened and slipped down to rest mid-thigh, exposing him pretty completely and allowing his body to grow to full arousal. A sensation that had him reaching down and groping at himself again as he’d done in the river, almost oblivious to Marco being right there and able to see everything.

Jean sat back on Marco’s thighs as he squeezed and groped at his dick, eyes reduced to thin slits and all but a sliver of gold was hidden now beneath his lids. Jean watched his own hand for a fraction of a second before his gaze drifted to Marco’s body instead, and he felt his mouth water and his stomach twist in want and _need_. Yet he had no idea how to satiate it.

"F-fuck…" Marco's eyes widened at the sight of Jean's cock, mouth watering. He was pretty sure that was the biggest dick he'd ever seen and it was _gorgeous_ . The idea of taking a length like that into his mouth… or his ass made him let out a broken whimper. He wasn't even sure if he could. But _god_ how some part of him wanted to try. "H-holy shit…" He breathed out the words, transfixed as Jean stroked himself. His eyes darted between the lustful expression on the man's face and the cock just calling his attention.

He reached out haltingly, hesitating before touching Jean's hand, guiding it away before wrapping his own hand around Jean's cock instead with a firm stroke. Marco groaned at the feeling of the heated flesh beneath his fingers, biting his lip harshly. His own hips bucked slightly out of reflex, shifting the fabric of his pants down slightly despite how all of his focus was entirely on Jean, or more specifically on his cock.

Jean didn’t know why Marco swore the way that he did, or why the other man whimpered in a way that made Jean both throb with arousal and worry that he’d done something wrong. Then Marco was reaching for him and Jean held his breath, eyes opening fully as anxiety made him wanted to run again but then Marco’s fingers wrapped around him and the resulting stroke made him choke on a surprised noise at how much _better_ that felt that his own hand.

“O-oh...that’s-… Marco…!” Jean voice came out trembling and high and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking and his hands from dropping down to grab at Marco’s chest for some sort of support as his body just wanted to sag and roll into the hand touching it.

Was this what was supposed to happen? Marco said it was supposed to be good, that humans seeked this sort of thing out _because_ of that and it certainly did feel all sorts of good for him right now. But did Marco feel it too?

He wanted to touch Marco’s too, but he could barely keep himself from grabbing Marco with all his strength and he was scared he’d break the other man. He felt so good, so _weird_ and so _close_ to something that was making his head spin and his eyes water and he looked up towards Marco’s face with irises shining with tears. Thighs twitching and stomach tightening and mouth hanging open on a sobbing sort of whimper. “S-stop.. I.. feel .. weird. Something’s gunna come out- Marco!”

Marco bit down a moan at the feeling of Jean grabbing at his chest. But when Jean looked at him with that _look_ looking so utterly broken, the sound tore itself free. Oh _fuck_ did Jean look good whimpering with tears in his eyes. Too good. Better than he should look.

"Shh, it's okay. Just relax. Don't fight it." Marco urged him on gently, stroking Jean's length with a firm and steady pressure. His gaze flitted between Jean's cock and the entirely fantastic expression on his face. He wanted to see him cum, wanted to watch when _he_ was the one to make Jean get off.

Jean's earlier statement that he'd never gotten a boner before flitted into his head. And the logical next thought that it meant he'd never gotten off either. Which lead to the concluding thought that _he_ could be responsible for Jean's first orgasm. His movements quickened slightly at the idea, eyes locked on Jean's face now.

“-oh...gh-!” The sound Marco made didn’t help Jean’s attempts to hold back the feeling flooding quickly to his groin and he twisted his hands in the fabric covering Marco’s chest. The other man’s soothing words helped a little bit, but Jean felt like if he let whatever it was happen he might just die or something, it was far too intense in a way he wasn’t at all used to, even a little bit. Pleasure had not been a part of Jean’s life up until now unless satisfying his obsessive hunger when humans came in counted.

But despite his anxiousness, despite his trembling and his sobbed moaning and his unsureness, Jean couldn’t stop it any more. Marco’s hand stroking and squeezing and pulling on him was too much and he couldn’t help closing his eyes against the sensation as he choked out a cry of the other man’s name as he came hard and copious and hot between them. The almost violent orgasm that was ripped from him causing sticky strings of cum to hit his lower face as he ducked his head, and even some going as far as to leave a mess on the table and Marco’s cheek.

Before he was completely finished Jean collapsed onto Marco’s chest, shuddering and gasping and clinging to him as his hips bucked out the last remnants of his orgasm and he could barely hear anything above a sort of ringing, pulsating in his ears.

Marco watched with rapt attention as Jean's orgasm ripped through him. He gnawed at his lip, tasting a faint metallic twang as he bit a bit too hard. His eyes widened at the fact that the cum reached his face before gasping as there was wetness on his cheek as well.

When Jean collapsed onto him, Marco shuddered slightly, letting him ride out the full length of his climax. He moved to slowly stroke up and down Jean's side with the hand not still trapped between them, a small chuckle vibrating through him. "Mmh see? Told you it was good."

Marco couldn't help thinking that Jean was absolutely stunning when he came, sure that the image would be seared into his mind. He wondered if Jean would look that good when he came if Marco was fucking him. His cock throbbed awkwardly between them. His frustrating lack of release had been momentarily pushed to the back of his mind but was now much more prominent.

Jean lay boneless and senseless for a while, Marco had spoken but he had no idea what he’d really said only that it sounded soothing. He hummed low in his throat and almost purred as he arched and rubbed himself against Marco like a happy feline.

He slowly became aware of Marco’s erection still pressing against him, though, and Jean groaned softly at the guilt he felt washing over him as he came back to his senses. “I..I’m sorry..” He whispered again and shoved his hands down between their pressed bodies, unable to make himself sit up when he felt so spent.

Jean was bold at first, but then when his fingertips brushed the heated tip of the other man’s trapped erection he paused and looked up at Marco’s face. Was this ok? Was he allowed to touch? “Am I… can I touch you?”

Marco only chuckled more at being rubbed against. It was an adorable action. Endearing even in its sweetness. Even if it did make his cock just be pressed more firmly and frustratingly between them. When Jean suddenly reached down to touch him, he gasped, letting out a small whine at the faint touch and arching in towards it slightly.

"Y-yes. Oh fuck yes." He nodded enthusiastically at the question, feeling his cock twitch noticeably at the idea. He hadn't honestly been expecting it but if Jean was initiating this, actively touching him rather than just being touched, Marco felt no shame in letting him do whatever he wanted.

Having had Marco’s approval Jean pressed his hands lower between them and cupped them both around the stiff arch off the other man’s cock. Marco’s dick was hot and Jean could feel how it throbbed and twitched with both his pulse and in response to any small shift of his fingers.

Jean’s face felt hot all over again as he firmly but slowly started to move his hands up and down the underside of the length, his body jostling slightly with the movement but he still felt he didn’t have the strength to sit up to make it easier. With a soft grunt of effort Jean couldn’t help but lean up and lap at the other man’s mouth, and the blood there from when Marco had bitten his lip. It tasted good and he licked again, more firmly and with a soft growl  as his hands twisted and wrapped fingers around Marco’s dick properly, trying to mimic the motion the other man had used on his erection moments before.

Marco's hips bucked at Jean's touch and he let out a small moan. Even such a simple touch after so much frustration was dizzying. He gasped at the licking and the almost primal growl that followed it, nails momentarily digging into Jean's side. A shuddering groan fell from his lips as Jean's fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Y-you can grip a bit harder… Don't have to… be so gentle." He muttered the words before something occurred to him and he smirked. Marco lifted his head slightly in a quick motion, moving forward to nip teasingly at Jean's lower lip. Some strange urge in him wanted to see if he could provoke the other man slightly. It was absurd, probably incredibly foolish, but fuck did he want to push him.

Jean _enjoyed_ the way Marco’s nails dug into his side and coupled with the groaning he almost felt like he’d  get hard again, even though that seemed impossible too.

When he was told he could grip harder he was so tempted, but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt Marco, he didn’t want to make him feel bad and he _knew_ that if he did it too hard that he’d break the other man like the spine of that hare. So he was about to say he didn’t think that was such a good idea when Marco suddenly nipped at him and something in him changed, like a switch flipping.

Jean growled again and pressed their mouths together hard and messy and purely instinctual as he lapped at the seam of the other man’s lips and bit at them with a bit more force than a pure ‘nip’ would usually hold. Whilst he did that his hands _did_ press harder, move faster, squeezing and twisting and he finally managed to hold his weight enough to shift his hips up and kneel so the movements of his hands were much easier.

“M-Marco... _fuck_!” His voice came out gravelly and deep and he growled again before moving to bite Marco’s shoulder, harder than he’d meant to but he couldn’t stop himself. One of his hands moved and grabbed Marco’s pants, ripping them down before grabbing the other man’s thigh and pushing his legs apart. The other hand still moving hard and fast on Marco’s cock.

"Nhh!" Marco gave a surprised noise at the sudden change. It was followed quickly by a needy moan at the biting and the change in intensity of Jean's movements. He gripped tight at Jean's side, his other hand moving to ball into a tight fist beside him.

The unexpected bite to his shoulder made Marco arch hard with a loud, broken cry. "Oh _fuck_ yes…" He gasped at the way his pants were suddenly yanked down and his legs pushed apart. Now this, this was better when Jean wasn't hesitating. Small broken syllables and curses escaped him easily between shallow, panting breaths as he felt himself getting close alarmingly quickly. He couldn't take much more of this. Jean's hand felt so fucking good and his shoulder stung just right. Marco's eyes rolled back in his head from the intensity.

"Fuck… Oh, fuck… Jean, I'm gonna…" Marco gave a heavy groan, hips bucking harshly as his climax hit him with unexpectedly suddenly, eyes squinting shut. His entire body felt as though it was tensing and spasming in waves, hips jerking in small thrusting movements as he came. Hot, thick cum spurted in strands between them, thoroughly soiling his shirt and Jean's hand. Marco trembled and shook breathlessly as he slowly came down from his high, blinking away the stars behind his eyes.

Jean wouldn’t be able to stop now even if Marco wished it, the noises he was making, the way he was squirming and the intensity of the scent of arousal in the air around him reduced Jean to a gasping, growling mess again. His dick did, however, behave despite the tempting display.

When Marco came, Jean let go of the other man’s shoulder and looked down between them, watching the milky fluid leaving the other man’s body with rapt attention as his hand gradually slowed to a jerky stop and he peeled his fingers from their vice-like grip on Marco’s thigh. There were already purpling marks there where he’d held just a little too tightly and he felt a shock of reason come flooding back to him.

Marco had looked and sounded and smelled so good, and Jean had marked him. He felt both pleased and upset by it; the sense of guilt had him drop down to a stand and release Marco from his grasp for just a moment before he bent over the other man’s body.

Without a word Jean started to clean the cum from Marco’s front with his tongue, the least he could do was clean him up and this seemed the best option for now. The heady scent of their mixed fluids and the salty, tangy taste of it made him groan and Jean moved his hands to hold Marco’s legs apart - more gently this time - as he lapped at the other man’s spent dick.

Marco's body felt suddenly cold when Jean slipped away, dropping his hand that had been at Jean's side down. Blinking his eyes into focus and lifting his head, he gasped slightly at the sight of Jean licking up the cum. He drew himself up onto his elbows slightly for a better view, wincing slightly at the sting in his shoulder. Well that was unexpected. He gave a small almost pathetic half-whimper at the sensation when the other man began lapping at his still overly-sensitive cock, head falling back.

"Holy fuck…" Marco breathed out the words, thighs trembling noticeably as he struggled to sit up a bit more. He searched for his words, finding that in itself a difficult task, much less sounding out the syllables with his slightly hoarse and dry throat. "That was… fuck wow… Unexpected. Good, so so good, but unexpected." He gave a breathless laugh, a bit of a senseless giddy grin on his face.

Jean tried his hardest not to react to the way Marco swore as he watched what he was doing, focusing on cleaning Marco up and not biting into the trembling flesh of the other man’s thigh because _shit_ they felt so nice beneath his hands.

Once he was done Jean sank to the floor between Marco’s legs and looked up at him, watching until the other man’s words registered and he felt himself grow suddenly very, very shy. “No...well...um… I mean… thank you…” He said clumsily and stood up, yanking on his pants and fumbling with the corset like lacing down the front panel, tying it in a messy bo so that the pants wouldn’t fall down when he moved.

He couldn’t help the way his own lips quirked upwards in the unfamiliar expression that mirrored Marco’s own. Jean rubbed the back of his neck and licked his lips. “I’m sorry for biting you.. I just, well… I mean it really did feel good and I couldn’t stop.”

Marco stood up slowly when he was sure his legs would hold him. He tugged his own pants back up, fastening them again. At Jean's awkward apology he couldn't help a small chuckle, shaking his head. He was apologizing? Marco's hand instinctively went to touch at the spot gently. He wondered idly just how bad it was.

"I don't think I'm exactly complaining, am I? I liked it." A blush tinged his cheeks darker than his post-orgasmic flush. "I uhm… Well I kind of like that sort of thing in general? Rough, bitey, primal, even. It's good. It's so good. I'm just weird." Marco shrugged slightly, trying to play down his embarrassment at the confession.

He jumped slightly when something occurred to him suddenly. Marco grabbed a plate, moving over to the pot on the fire. He poked at the meat with the spoon, watching as it all but fell apart under the prodding. Frowning, he tried a bit harder to finally fish it out, moving to set the plate on the table. "Well uhm… Pretty sure that's done too."


	4. Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected visitors lead to unexpected tensions. But damn Marco thinks Jean looks hot when he's humiliatingly embarrassed.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains omorashi.

Jean felt his own blush returning as Marco admitted to liking what had been done to him and then blurting that he liked it rough _in general_ . Jean didn’t think it was weird, not really. It wasn’t like he knew what was and wasn’t normal, but there was something about the thought of just being wild and instinctive and Marco _liking_ that, which made him want to do it again.

Jean jolted in surprise when Marco suddenly jumped and moved to the boiling pot of food, for once Jean hadn’t even noticed the smell of the food because Marco had been so close to him and taking up all of his senses.

“Hah...mmn, yeah it seems done. I hope you can eat it alright.” It did look quite nice even if the meat was falling off the bones. but Jean had already had his fill of food and _other things_ for now, so he just turned and walked towards one of the bookshelves. He plucked a black leather bound book from the middle and flopped down onto the floor beside Marcos feet, as if that was where he was supposed to be and there wasn’t a perfectly good stool a few feet away.

"It'll be fine. Just a bit more tender than I'd usually let it get. But it's not bad or anything; a lot of people prefer it like this. I'm just usually in a hurry or impatient. You want to try it?" Marco nodded, giving a small shrug in response.

Marco looked down at his shirt before he sat with a small grimace at the cum residue as it stuck to his body when he moved. He'd have to wash it sooner rather than later. Which at least meant he would be staying until it dried. Though, given what had just happened between them, Marco wasn't in any hurry to leave anymore. They hadn't done anything more than jack each other off and yet Marco was confident that was one of the most satisfying orgasms he'd ever had. If there was any chance of more experiences like that, or particularly of doing _more_ than that, Marco didn't imagine he'd be in any hurry to leave anytime soon either. He flushed to himself as he sat down and started to pull the meat from the bones.

"Jean…?" Marco had just popped a piece into his mouth, giving a small satisfied sound at the way it fell apart in his mouth, when Jean suddenly flopped down next to him on the floor. He blinked at the man at his feet as he chewed. And then looked at the stool. Then back at Jean. Then back at the stool. It looked like a perfectly good stool. Certainly better than the floor for sitting. And Jean had sat on it the day before. So why was he sitting on the floor now? Marco swallowed before he spoke, words slow and unsure. "Why… why are you sitting on the floor? There's a stool right there? And the floor is… cold and hard? So why…? Why aren't you on the stool?"

“Mhm… I already ate a few so I don’t need it. You eat it all.” Jean responded to Marco’s question after the other man had said his name. Eyes scanning the pages of a book he had read countless times but was still entertained by.

Then Marco asked a question in an almost confused voice and Jean paused in his reading to tilt his head back, resting it on Marco’s thigh as he looked up at the other man. “Why? … I can sit on the stool? But I do like it here. It’s closer to you.” He said simply, as if he needed permission to use something that was ‘his’, as if being closer to Marco was the best option available to him.

Then he froze, listening and staring up at the ceiling as if caught in a trance, except Jean’s eyes were completely focused and sharp as his lip curled and a feral growl - like the one he’d let loose when Marco first intruded - ripped out of him. Jean stood up abruptly, dropping the book and then instantly falling into a defensive crouch, glaring at the door as he dug his fingers into the worn carpet beneath him.

Marco wanted to smile at the warm pressure of Jean's head against his thigh but the answer to his question bothered him too much. It was as if Jean's home wasn't even his. It was an odd mentality. And, from Marco's view, rather absurd.

"Of course you can--" Marco cut himself off when he noticed how Jean suddenly froze. The sound of his growl made Marco's blood turn cold in his veins. He raised a brow, cautiously turning toward the door. What had him so on-edge so suddenly? The other man looked as though he was ready to kill something without any hesitation. And now that the look wasn't directed at him, he could truly appreciate the ferocity of his glare and body language. And had a keener appreciation for having not been ripped apart. "Jean…? Is everything okay?"

He could hear them, humans. At first it was just heavy footsteps and the sound of a horse, but then he could hear the quiet murmuring between them, the quiet clang of metal and wood and branches snapping. They were too close, there wasn’t a road here so they had no reason to be so close unless they were going to come here.

They were louder than Marco, too, although the heavy rain _had_ obscured the house of his approach. The day was mild and precipitation free for now though, so it was easy for him to detect them.

“... a load of expensive shit they said.” A gruff voice became intelligible and Jean growled again.

“Yeah but they said no one's ever come back what if something goes wrong? Are you sure the guy is actually dead?” Came a less forceful voice, trembling slightly.

Why were there so many humans recently? Marco had been a wonderful surprise, he was glad that he didn’t manage to kill him, but these men were vile and he wanted nothing more than to rip their throats out before they could hurt him or Marco or destroy his cottage. So Jean didn’t wait for them to get to the door. Instead leaping across the room at a run and slamming the door open hard enough to make a cracking noise in protest.

His familiar had already materialised, this time four monstrous arms were spread and ready for a fight and the men had no chance to react before Jean had jumped at the more cowardly sounding one. He grabbed him with all six of his hands and squeezed until he heard bone crunching and the man's gurgling scream of agony as frothy blood spilled from his mouth. Jean grabbed his throat in his mouth and sank his teeth in savagely, pulling and twisting until a large chunk of flesh was ripped free and he swallowed it down before lunging in again.

Marco stiffened when he heard the faint sounds of people talking. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying properly. But then Jean was bolting to the door and Marco was on his feet in an instant and darting after him. He made it to the door just in time to hear the sickening crunch and drowned scream that followed.

" _JEAN!_ Stop it! Jean!" Marco shouted in a panic, stepping farther outside towards the commotion. Jean had just mauled some stranger right in front of him for no apparent reason and with no provocation. He'd just killed someone for no obvious reason. Marco called the restraints on Jean's wrists, binding them tight behind him.

The other stranger made a horrified sound followed by a shout of rage at his companion's obvious demise, drawing a sword. He swung for the closer target, which happened to be Marco, in a fit of blind rage.

Just barely catching the attack from the corner of his eye with his gaze fixed on Jean and his victim, Marco leapt to the side, out of the blade's path. But not quick enough. He cried out at the sharp sting of the sudden wound to his upper arm. Not such an innocent victim then, Marco decided quickly with a spike of anger. The man was clumsy with his blade, too exposed and lacking technique. It was easy for Marco to safely step in close, partway around him, to clap his hand down on the man's shoulder. What was control when he had the man in his grasp? Rip, rend, pain, revenge, those were the only thoughts that raced through his mind as the icy sting shot through his palm. A series of sickening cracks and a noise that could only be described as a squelch sounded out as the man's body ripped itself apart with wounds that were not his own. A shove to the man's shoulder and he dropped dead to the ground.

The familiar horrifying sickening exciting terrible wonderful thrill filled Marco's senses, making him breathe in a deep satisfied breath that stung with metallic blood. Marco shuddered, panting, breathless, knowing his eyes would be blown wide. Coming back to his senses, Marco cursed, spinning back to face Jean in alarm.

Jean didn’t respond to Marco with anything but a hissing noise around the second lot of flesh in his mouth as the man in his clutches sagged into a limp, dead weight. Then suddenly dropped to the floor as Jean’s arms were thrust behind him in their magic binds and his familiar disappeared.

Jean gasped and struggled and spun to see the other man swinging a sword at Marco, and then the scent of his blood faintly ringing the air despite the already coppery smell permeating it from the man he had just killed. “MASTER!” His voice was panicked and raw as Marco stepped out of reach despite being harmed - even though mildly it was too much in Jean’s eyes and he wanted to shred the man who had done it. But Marco beat him to it.

Jean watched, mesmerised and awed as Marco grabbed the man and killed him with a brutality that made Jean’s stomach churn in a strange sort of excitement. Marco was so _powerful_ and amazing, it took his breath away and when the man was dead on the ground Jean couldn’t help running over to Marco despite his bonds feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“H-He hurt you!” He said, gaze zeroing in on Marco’s wound and growling. Blood was smeared around his mouth and chin, trickles of it on his neck and collarbones where he had pulled the man’s throat from his body with his teeth. Despite the image, though, his eyes were wide and watering and his complexion pale with worry. Jean had fought men with poison in their blades before and he leaned down to quickly drag his tongue across the slash to see if that was the case here.

Marco was still breathless, flushed and panting. He felt _awful_ for having done that. But he also felt _so good_ for it as well. Something about Jean's worried expression made his heart flutter in its racing pace. Even if it was unsettling with the blood smeared across him. The sudden lick at his over-sensitized skin made Marco choke down a strangled moan. He blushed in embarrassment at his own noise, pulling away quickly to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'm f-fine, really. Just sorry you had to see that..." He didn't _like_ to do that, didn't like anyone to _see_ him do things like that, especially.

He stopped to actually look at the wound and frowned at the tattered arm of his shirt. "...I really liked this shirt though…" Marco grumbled the words in annoyance, pressing his hand tight to the injury to heal it with a long sigh. He looked back at Jean with a glare, still clutching his upper arm as he pointed accusingly. "But you! What'd you attack that guy for!? And did you fucking _eat_ his throat!?"

Something else registered to Marco and another blush crept onto his face. Something Jean had said before. Screamed it, really. "...And what the fuck did you call me before? Just then?"

“You’re amazing...though… it was amazing.” Jean said in wonderment. He couldn’t understand why Marco was obviously ashamed of what he had done, his power, his grace and the absolutely delicious look on his face as he did it.

But then Marco was practically yelling at him, glaring at him and obviously highly displeased and it made Jean shrink back slightly with a frown and a soft noise of irritated defensiveness. “They came here to attack my home and take things! All of them , that’s all they ever want to kill me and the Maker and take things and talk of money and goods and rare items!” Jean’s words were trembling with his mixture of anger and upset.

However, being asked so aggressively what he’d called Marco before made him pause. He didn’t really remember but he’d said something right? Not Marco’s name? Jean lapsed into silence for a long moment as the scene replayed in his mind and then he tilted his head, glaring at Marco as he answered. “Master. So?”

"You don't know that if you didn't even let them get to the door! And it might help if this place didn't _look_ abandoned!" Marco gestured at the cottage behind him. If it weren't for the smoke from the chimney, he never would have assumed the place to be inhabited that first day, never would have even found it.

Marco blinked at the term. And frowned. And tilted his head in confusion. Being called that was either hot or weird and in his current state he wasn't entirely sure he could tell the two apart with any level of accuracy. So he settled for asking for clarification, voice softer than he intended. "Wh… Why would you call me that?" He caught himself and cleared his throat, continuing more strongly. "...And it's not amazing! It's violent and awful! I'm supposed to fix people not break them!" Marco huffed in deflated frustration, dropping his arms to his side.

His shirt was already ruined so he didn't hesitate to reach out and wipe a good amount of the blood off Jean's face as best he could. "And look at you. Now you're a mess and there's bodies to get rid of."

“Didn’t you _hear_ them!? They were talking about it before I did it!” Jean raised his voice a little, the words cracking where he was still not used to speaking let alone with such ferocity. He didn’t understand why Marco was so angry with him, he’d protected them, he’d protected his home and his Makers things. Why did Marco have to look at him that way?

“Who gives a shit about people!?” Jean yelled as he jerked away from Marco’s touch, kicking the body of the man who had cut Marco, then growling and kicking it again much harder, hearing the squelch and crack of the broken corpse beneath his foot as it rolled a few feet across the woodland floor. “Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them all! And fuck you too!”

"Well I don't know what weird hearing you have but no, I could not hear them! Talking yes, making out what the talking was, no!" He shook his head with an irritated sigh. Still, Marco supposed that did make it _slightly_ better if what Jean said was true. But Marco felt he still could have just opened the door like a normal person and given the strangers the chance to turn away. Then if the same result had happened, he at least wouldn't have felt bad about it.

Marco clenched his hands into fists, glaring hard at Jean. His tone when he spoke was quiet yet laced with threat. " _I_ give a shit about people, thank you very much. And so should you. _You_ are no different than any other logical being, even if you _choose_ to act like a wild fucking animal." He tightened Jean's restraints as tight as he dared without injuring him. "But you are a _person_ even if you aren't _human_ . And you will _not_ disrespect a fucking _corpse_." The 'even if it was the corpse of an asshole' thought his brain supplied remained unspoken.

Jean growled at Marco, glared at him and cursed himself for wanting him to stay so much despite being so _goddamn angry_ right now. “All I’m _made_ of is fucking _animals_!” He yelled, feeling his eyes prick with tears again and he would have swiped them away angrily if not for the tightening of his restraints that sent him to his knees with a strained sound that he hoped didn't sound as pleasured as he felt.

“Let me go.” He hissed, frowning at the floor and gritting his teeth as he strained against the bonds and tried to ignore how that made his groin twitch as they squeezed him and made his skin tingle.

Marco sighed heavily, letting the restraints loosen slightly to be more comfortable but keeping Jean's arms still firmly behind him. Were those tears in the other man's eyes? "I don't care what you're made of. You're a person too same as… Same as me." His words when he spoke were still calm, earnest even, as he shook his head. Marco felt comparing Jean to himself was a better idea than to the two dead men.

"Now at least just tell me there's a shovel somewhere around here. I need to go bury these two somewhere far from the path. Ideally while they're still warm and before they start to smell." Marco sighed before adding a final thought more quietly. "And then if you want me to be on my merry way, I can be."

Jean struggled to his feet after the restraints were loosened a bit, still there but not enough to prevent him from clumsily making his way back into the cottage and kicking over a shovel that was leaning between two of the bookcases. His Maker used to use it to dig up some sort of fungus seep in the boggy part of the forest. He kicked it into the doorway before slumping to the floor with a pout.

He was pissed off, he didn’t want to say anything more to Marco for the moment but he also didn’t want to hurt him, nor did he want him to leave. It was a strange feeling that he wasn’t used to, usually if he was aggravated he would lash out without a second thought, there would be no guilt and no mourning. But this time, despite the fact the men had come to take things - and he _knew_ they had - he sort of felt bad. Marco was so angry and that rubbed him the wrong way, it felt horrible and conflicting with his usual self.

"...Thanks." Marco snatched up the shovel with a small nod and a half-smile. Jean wasn't saying anything and Marco wasn't sure if that meant they'd be parting ways once he was done burying their little… mishap or not. The thought made him anxious, made his gut churn, but if that was what the other wanted…

Marco shook his head, there was no sense dwelling on it. He turned on his heel to leave, pausing and looking back over his shoulder. "Look just… Just stay right there until I'm done okay? At least do that for me. I'll try not to be long." And then he was out the door, closing it behind him.

Marco hesitated only slightly before he grabbed the man who had attacked him by the arm, dragging him along the ground until he was well out of sight of the cottage. Then he went back for the other one. He stared at the ground for a long few minutes before starting to dig a pit big enough for both bodies. What had to be done had to be done. One good thing, Marco realized as he dug, was that the exertion was helping him to get out his pent up frustration and irritation. It was calming, really, despite the sheen of sweat and how his muscles ached from the effort.

And it was far too easy to lose track of time. When he was satisfied, Marco kicked the corpses into the pit, starting to cover them with dirt. It was another long process but finally Marco was on his way back to the cottage. He felt better with his act out of sight and soon hopefully out of mind, filthy, but better. He wasn't angry with Jean, he decided. It was only a logical response given Jean's history with travelers. It was something that needed worked on, sure, but it wasn't as absurd and outlandish as it had seemed. He did hope, at least, that Jean would let him take one of his "maker's" shirts to replace his ruined one, if he was going to be told to leave. Or well, either way really. He was lost in his own thoughts as he pushed the cottage door back open, stepping inside.

Jean “Hmph”ed as Marco thanked him and told him to stay where he was whilst he was gone. Then the door was closed and Jean was left sitting in the middle of the floor feeling sour and irritable, he glared at the floor as if it had personally insulted him and shifted to sit on his feet.

His arms started to ache slightly from being held behind his back for so long, and his legs tingled with the tightness around the thigh of the bonds there but that paled in comparison to the way his bladder started to ache after a while. How long had Marco been gone for? How much longer would he stay away?

Marco had told Jean to stay where he was, and that along with the bonds made it impossible for him to just get up and leave, not that he would have been able to remove his pants without the use of his hands anyway. He tugged a bit harder and with more desperation as the minutes ticked by but all that happened was his binds getting tighter and his breath coming quicker.

Jean knelt and pressed his legs together tightly, hunching in on himself as he trembled with the effort to keep what was in his overfilled bladder _inside_ it, but he’d been here for far too long and had yet to go since Marco arrived the day before. He felt his eyes prick with tears again before letting out a soft whine and moving his legs apart to try and stand up, at least get outside… But the door was shut and he couldn’t use his hands and it hurt so much.

Before he could do anything more than let out a strained sob Jean felt the first hot trickle of pee soaking the crotch of his pants as the door to the cottage opened to signal Marcos return. He wanted to die, he didn’t know why this was so humiliating but Marco seeing this… _this_ piss leaking from him like he was some kind of dirty child made him sob again even if the relief of it felt amazing. His face flared bright red and he panted and trembled as the puddle on the floor grew and all he could do was sob and apologise over and over as he finished.

Marco's eyes snapped over to look at Jean as he heard the sob right as he walked in. Was Jean crying? Was he okay? Did something happen? Was he hurt? What was going--

His thoughts crashed to a halt, eyes going wide as he took in the sight he'd walked in on. Jean _was_ crying, sure, but that wasn't all. Jean was _pissing himself_ while sobbing and trembling and apologizing. It was bizarre and Marco felt more than a bit filthy just standing there gawking. But with that _look_ on Jean's face, Marco couldn't look away. Jean looked humiliated and broken and his face was red and teary and _oh fuck_ was Marco getting hard over this!?

"H-holy fuck…" Marco stammered out the words breathlessly. And nope, he was _definitely_ popping a boner over Jean's utter humiliation. He wanted to blame it on something else, anything else. And sure, maybe he was already sexually frustrated from the rush using his magic to rip someone apart always gave him and that certainly didn't help. But it was still at least largely to blame on Jean. Jean and that fucking look on his face and oh he looked so broken and why did that look so damn good? Thoughts flashed through his mind of Jean looking that utterly shattered with his lips wrapped around Marco's cock and he blushed darkly, trying hard to push them away and file them under things he shouldn't think again. Instead, he stammered on helplessly. "I… uhm. I… sorry. I… fuck."

Marco just stood there watching him, Jean could feel his eyes on him burning and intense and it made his heart race and more tears trickle hotly down his cheeks. Why was Marco _staring_ at him? Was it just too gross, was he frozen in shock and unable to move by the sheer level of repulsion?

“S-sorry...I’m sorry… I-I’m sorry.. it c-came out… I couldn’t… any more… ughhnn.” He wanted to cover his face, run away, curl up, explode _anything_ was better than being seen like this. Even if Marco had apologised, why? It wasn’t him that peed all over the fucking floor like an animal. He really _was_ an animal huh he’d never be like his Maker… like Marco.

Jean’s trousers were stuck, slick against his inner thighs and darkened with the moisture that was now there. The floor holding a large, almost clear puddle beneath him that his knees were resting in and Jean pulled them together again and hunched over himself, hair falling over his shoulders but luckily pooling on the floor outside of the puddles reach. “I’m s-sorry… D-don’t hate me.. I know I’m an animal b-but don’t leave me alone again.. I’m sorry… sorry…”

"N-no. I uhm… I shouldn't have been gone so long… I just…" Marco trailed off, not knowing what to say. First things first, they should get Jean cleaned up. He needed to get Jean to his feet first. Marco crossed the space, closing the distance between them. He towered over where Jean was hunched, hesitating for a moment. He reached down, intending to grab Jean's bicep to tug him up. Instead, Jean's worries about Marco hating him picked that moment to resonate in him.

His hand changed course, grabbing a fistful of Jean's hair near the back of his head instead. "Jean." His voice was serious in tone but soft in volume as he tugged him up sharply by his hair, looking down at him. The other man's face was now just at the right height for his purposes. Marco tugged him forward slightly, shifting his own hips forward. The motion rubbed the obvious hardness of his cock against Jean's cheek. Marco let out a small shuddering noise. "It's not fair… You shouldn't look so fucking sexy when you cry."

Jean just shook his head at Marco’s words, it was Jean’s fault he had to be gone so long in the first place anyway. Then there were footsteps coming towards him and he tensed and scrunched his eyes closed even tighter because he couldn’t bear to see the disappointed look on Marcos face.

What Jean wasn’t expecting, however, was a hand in his hair. Tugging it in a way that made him gasp and stutter out a soft groan as his scalp tingled and his dick twitched in his wet pants. Then his face was pressed to Marco’s crotch, hot and _hard_ and apparently all _for him._ “W-whu… wh-at?” He stuttered on a sob, opening his eyes to glance up at Marco as much as he could from the position he was in.

The scent of the other man was strong and vivid and it made Jean’s own cock throb even more with the memory of what they had done earlier in the day. Oh how good it had felt but also how anxious it still made him. “I...I… sexy?” He squeaked, pulling on his bonds subconsciously and unable to hold back the moan that the tightening of them ripped out of him. What the hell was going on… he was so, _so_  aroused all of a sudden. Because of Marco. Marcos dick in his face, the hand in his hair, the adrenaline and shame coursing through him on the rhythm of his hammering heartbeat. “Master…”

The look on Jean's face and the moan that escaped him made Marco groan in response. "God yes you are…" He bit his lip slightly as he tried to not just dry hump the hell out of the other man's face. But when Jean used that word again, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. His cock gave a needy throb and he rocked his hips against the other's cheek again. "Th-there you go with that… that word again…" Marco gave a breathy embarrassed laugh.

"Jean I…" He impulsively undid his pants with the hand not buried in Jean's hair, freeing his length from the fabric confines. Marco wanted to bring tears to Jean's eyes for a different reason. A reason much more related to him fucking the man's face. He humped himself against the bound man's cheek again at the thought, tugging at his hair slightly. "Nh… I want you to suck me off." The thought that Jean's mouth had ripped out some guy's throat not long before flashed through his mind, spiking his adrenaline but somehow not deterring him in the slightest. The appeal of the idea of his dick sliding between Jean's lips was too strong. "Just suck my cock… Please." It was almost a whine.

Jean muffled a noise as Marco rocked his hips against his cheek, rubbing his erection against him in a strange but fucking _arousing_ way. He sort of… really liked this side of Marco. Then marco was undoing his pants and that dizzying pheromone scent got stronger and Jean got hotter and he moaned loudly as Marco’s bare erection was thrust against his face in a steady humping motion.

“Suck…?” Jean asked breathlessly, thighs twitching and squeezing inward in an effort to ease his own growing erection. Marco asked him again, _begged_ almost and who was Jean to refuse this man anything especially when he asked like _that_.

“Mnh..” Was the only noise Jean made before turning his head and hitching a breath at the way that pulled his hair even more. He whimpered and lapped at Marco’s dick with his tongue without any hesitation at all, the taste of the salty skin making his own hips buck slightly though there was nothing to give friction. “Nh..hot… Masterh…” He purred before awkwardly wrapping his mouth around Marco’s cock and suckling the tip with a sharp inward breath through his nose, eyes open and pink rimmed from his earlier tears, staring straight up at Marco through his long bangs.

Marco nodded quickly at the question. And then Jean's tongue was against his skin, warm and wet, and it was all Marco could do to keep his hips still, moaning softly. He tried to loosen his grip on Jean's hair, not wanting to hurt him. But then there were lips around his cock, suckling just the tip, Jean's golden eyes looking up at him from through his hair, and his efforts were gone.

"Oh… fuck…" Marco's eyes fluttered shut for only moment as he gripped Jean's hair tightly. His hips jerked in a small thrust he couldn't stifle. It was good but it wasn't enough. He wanted, no _needed_ more. He wanted nothing more than to just thrust his hips forward, burying his cock in Jean's throat and fucking his face, and it was all he could do to resist the urge. "Mh… More…"

Jean grunted and muffled a sharp moan around the flesh in his mouth as Marco gripped his hair more tightly and thrust his hips in a shallow motion that made his breath catch and his own dick pulse and leak a thick spurt of pre-cum into his already wet trousers. His heart hammered with lust and fear and he felt a wave of hesitation overtake him at the sheer _need_ on Marco’s face.

The other man was flushed and wild looking and it sent shivers of both anticipation and apprehension through him. But Marco was different from the Maker wasn’t he… Marco wouldn’t hurt him like that...right? He felt his ass twitch and clench at the memory and he couldn’t help a shuddering sob of a moan as Marco asked for more and he was powerless against that voice.

So Jean pushed more, drew Marco’s cock deeper, sucked a bit harder and wiggled his tongue against the underside trying to get a better taste because it tasted _wonderful_ . He didn’t close his eyes, wanted to watch the other man as he moved because the way Marco looked right now had Jean both cowering and worshipping him internally. He wanted him to stay forever, this man, this intruder who he’d almost killed… who had been so _so_ angry with him for killing as he always had… who had witnessed him pissing himself like an animal.

He pulled back gasping as Marco’s dick slipped from between his lips and he used the moment to catch his breath a little and arch his back and whine at the confines of his own wet pants that were making his skin sting with the urine there. The sensation mingling with the tingle and tightness of the bonds on him and it just made him want _more._ He leaned back in, taking the tip of Marco into his mouth again and humming in appreciation.

"Ngh…" Marco gave a soft groan as his cock slipped deeper into Jean's mouth. His restraints on Jean's wrists flickered in their intensity, tightening and loosening alternately when Jean's tongue moved against the underside of his cock, small incoherent noises escaping them. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to take in every bit of the experience that he could despite how much his body urged him to just tip his head back and his eyes shut.

It was a rush. Both from the sensations themselves and their surrounding context. Jean's tear-stained face, the way the man was on his knees with his arms bound, the feeling of his hair threading through Marco's fingers, the filthy fact that Jean was still wearing his urine-soaked pants, the thought that he had just watched this man kill someone and yet he was now sucking Marco's cock. It pulled another whimpering moan from his lips.

When Jean pulled back, Marco couldn't stop a small whine from escaping him, taking the chance to slacken his grip on the other man's hair again. With the sensation of Jean fucking _humming_ around his cock, Marco's hips bucked of their own accord suddenly, nails dragging against Jean's scalp. "Sorry…" He muttered his apology, biting down on the pointer finger of his free hand in an attempt to keep hold of some semblance of his self-control.

Jean wanted to shake his head when Marco apologised about bucking into his mouth, he didn’t think there was a need for that since it kind of… felt _good_. Jean pulled back again and gasped, looking Marco in the eyes hungrily, if his hands were free he thought he might just be grabbing the other man hard enough to break him, it was frustrating not to be able to but also a good thing. He didn’t want to break Marco like the Maker had been.

“Do that.... harder...more.. as much as you need to…” Jean’s hoarse words were breathy and he chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again. “Do it..” Then he opened his mouth, arched his back again and leaned in to cradle the underside of Marco’s erection with his tongue. He pressed his lips hard around it and muffled another humming moan at the taste, his own dick now painfully throbbing and trapped beneath those annoying laces at the front of his wet pants.

Marco made a small broken noise at both Jean's horse tone and the words themselves. He wanted him to…? With the welcoming invitation of the other man's lips wrapped around his cock again and that damn humming, he couldn't resist. "...Okay…"

Gripping at Jean's hair again, Marco started to thrust his hips forward, slipping his cock in and out of the other's mouth. He moved slowly and shallowly at first but picked up both the pace and depth of his movements quickly, still trying to not overwhelm Jean too quickly. Marco scratched his nails against Jean's scalp as he moved, tugging at his hair. Small moans and low groans slipped freely and repeatedly from his lips. "Fuck… Jean…" Marco breathed heavily, eyes fluttering shut every few moments only to be forced open again.

Jean furrowed his brow in concentration as Marco gripped his hair again and started to move, slow at first but quickly speeding up and moving deeper, harder. Jean groaned again, groaned at every inward thrust of the other man’s cock and couldn’t help but let his own legs slip open enough to let his pelvis thrust against the air. Needy and futile as he whimpered.

His breath hitched, heartbeat stuttering as his hair was pulled even more and he felt his dick twitch out more of that thick, sticky pre-cum as his eyes watered from the sharp jabs of Marco’s cock to the back of his mouth. He wanted more he needed more, he wanted to taste Marco and grab at him and be grabbed and bite and grind and gasp but all he could do was sob and moan around the cock in his mouth and let shameful tears run down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He wanted to cum, he needed to cum… he wanted Marco to cum too. Oh _god_ he needed it.

Marco gave a shuddering moan at the noises Jean was making. He revelled in the idea that Jean was enjoying this. The way his hips thrust at nothing was clear evidence of that. He wanted to make Jean cum as well but oh _fuck_ his mouth felt too good. Between that and his noises and the entirely too appealing tears running down his cheeks, Marco couldn't help but be selfish. He didn't want to give up one second of having the other man's mouth around him. He couldn't.

"Fuck, Jean… look so good... Feel s'good…" Marco's words were breathy between broken pleasured noises. His hips bucked forward a bit harder, pushing his dick a bit deeper as he started to really lose his grip on himself. He couldn't help himself as familiar tension coiled in his gut, building quickly.

Incoherent moans and husky groans escaped Marco's lips in an absolutely filthy procession. "Ngh! Fuck! I'm… I'm gonna…" He was cut off when a keening moan ripped its way from his throat. His hips snapped forward, grip on Jean's hair and the bonds on his wrists tightening as he came suddenly, several spurts of hot sticky cum shooting into Jean's mouth. His knees trembled, legs threatening to give out under him as he fought to keep himself upright.

Marco panted heavily, lost in the high of his climax for a moment. "Shit… Sorry…" He muttered his words, barely half coherent as he loosened the grip of his sore knuckles on Jean's hair, petting it gently. "Sorry, I uh… I got a little carried away… Sorry…"

Jean could hardly breathe around the deep thrusts into his mouth, could hardly make any noise as his face was fucked and the other man found his pleasure in it. Jean, too, found it all incredibly exciting and he cried with the need completely unrestrained now.

Then Marco was cumming and the grip on his hair and the wrap of his bonds tightened and he choked on the other man’s cock as Marco came hard and hot onto Jean’s tongue. He shuddered violently, hitching a sort of sobbing moan at the taste as he tried to swallow around the flesh in his mouth, though as Marco pulled back most of it spilled out over his chin.

Jean moan-sobbed again and fell to the floor, uncaring of the fact his ass was in the cold puddle because he was too hard and too needy to care. All he could think about was the way Marco tasted and looked and smelled and oh _fuck_ his dick hurt so much.

“Arms… ou….out… arms.. hands.. hu-hnhh… hurts. So hard..” He choked out the words around his panting breaths, throat sounding sore.

Marco grimaced slightly at how Jean flopped into his own puddle, desperate sobbing moans escaping the man. He looked so broken, so wanton, and Marco was so tempted to just release the bonds as he was asked and let him cum. But by the same token, Jean was a filthy, soiled mess. Some things were worth waiting for, and orgasms were one of those things by his view. "Mm, not yet, Jean." With a mischievous smirk, he looped an arm around Jean's bicep, pulling him up to his feet.

"You're too much of a mess. C'mon. That stream, show me the way." His tone was light and teasing but wicked at the same time as his fingers threaded through Jean's hair again, this time on the side of his head, and he tugged him along towards the door. Not that he wanted to keep Jean in this needy state for longer than absolutely necessary, but Marco didn't think a little bit of extra suffering would harm anything other than Jean's patience.

Jean almost cried out in his need as Marco said ‘not yet’. That was too cruel, he was so hard it _hurt_ and Marco had already finished and Jean remember how fucking _good_ it felt and he _needed it goddamnit!_

He stood when Marco tugged on his arm, wobbling slightly as his legs felt like jelly but when Marco grabbed his hair again all he could to was gasp and moan and sag as his legs threatened to collapse from under him at the sensation that shot through him. “So c-cruel.. mean...Marco.” He growled on a gasp as he was pulled by his hair to the door.

But he didn’t disobey, Jean moved as quickly as he could - which wasn’t very in his current state - toward the stream that meandered through the forest not too far from the cottage. He stumbled clumsily on tree roots and stones and more than once he thought he’d fall if not for the hand in his hair. His dick throbbed and his pants rubbed against it with each step in a maddeningly ‘not enough’ sort of way.

By the time they made it to the stream Jean could barely draw breath with how aroused he was, could hardly see through the moisture in his eyes at the prolonged teasing, could barely stand on legs that were trembling and twitching with each pulse of his dick. “Please… oh _god please Master._ I...I can’t...anymore...”

Marco only smirked a little wider at being called cruel. Maybe he was, but he had a good reason at least. He was careful to keep a close eye on Jean as they walked, making sure he didn't stumble too badly. Jean was so adorably desperate and it filled Marco with a bizarre sense of glee and amusement.

The needy tone in Jean's voice when he used that title again made Marco shiver a little. He held himself together though, leaning in to barely breathe his words into Jean's ear, deliberately low and teasing. "Mmh, you really want it that badly? You want your hands free so you can cum? You really need it bad, don't you?" He ran a hand up and down Jean's upper back slowly and temptingly.

"Fine then. Have at it." Marco gave a small and sudden shove, right between Jean's shoulder blades and just hard enough he'd be fairly sure to topple him over into the water as he took a large leap backwards. At the same time, the bonds released from each other, leaving the other man's hands suddenly free.


	5. Hesitance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean sits on the border between incorrigible and afraid. But Marco doesn't mind keeping things lighter.

Marco’s voice was strange and it intensified the conflicting feelings of need and nervousness within him, the hand on his back and the words the other man was using made him shudder and groan as he nodded. Only once, however, before he was shoved towards the stream and Jean was stumbling into it on wobbling legs that couldn’t hold him up with the sudden movement and his current state. 

So he fell, gasping at the chill of the water and  _ just _ managing to shove his hands in front of himself after they were unbound to catch himself before his head went under. The yelp that escaped him was high pitched and warbling and Jean would have glared and growled at Marco if his dick wasn’t  _ so fucking hard _ . Jean pulled himself up to the opposing shale bank, lower legs still in the water as he fumbled at his pants and yanked them all the way off, throwing them behind himself with a wet slap against a large boulder. He didn’t wait more than a heartbeat before sagging backwards, spreading his legs and grabbing his erection with both hands, another sobbed moan escaping him and his hips bucking into the motion as he started to jerk himself hard.

Marco couldn't help barking out a small laugh at the indignant yelp that escaped the other man. That had definitely been worth it. His moment of mirth faded with the sight of Jean stripping himself so quickly and starting to stroke himself so hard. Marco let out a shuddering breath. His cock gave a half-hearted twitch in his pants and he knew if it weren't for how recently he had cum, the image before him would have easily been enough to have him stirring. 

Marco watched with rapt attention, breathless, as he perched himself on the edge of a boulder. He wanted to cross the distance, touch him, feel him. But he was transfixed as he found himself taking in the details of the way Jean's body tensed and moved, the strength behind the way his hips bucked, the broken sound of his desperate sobbing moans. Jean was stunning in the way he acted on pure instinct. The way he sagged and spread his legs could only make Marco picture being on top of him, spreading him more, fucking him into the ground. He gnawed at his lip with a shuddering sigh. Briefly, he wondered if Jean would mind being the object of his intense focus, but he figured the other man was far too gone in his own need to care at the moment. 

Jean was biting his lip now, noises muffled by the action as he moved his hands and his hips in an unpracticed and clumsy way, but it felt amazing still. The relief of finally having nothing restraining him, of being able to touch and squeeze and rub and gasp.

The ache in his balls, however, hadn’t dissipated with the removal of his pants and Jean hitched a shuddering breath as he moved one of his hands down to grope at them with a sharp jerk of his hips, leg muscles clenching. Jean couldn't help but arch his back more and spread his legs wider as he gasped and panted and trembled and he lifted his head, straining to look over to where Marco was with eyes still damp from tears. He was being watched, Marcos eyes were focused so intently on him and it sent another sharp spike of pleasure ripping through him.

It was enough to send him over the edge without him even realising he was there, eyes widening almost comically before he squeezed them shut and his head dropped back down to the shale beneath him as he came hard across his fist and belly. “Augh- F-fuCK!” Jean’s voice crackled out, broken and almost awed as his body jerked and jolted with his release until he fell still and silent aside from the heavy panting Legs still spread and hands limply lying across his genitals as the stream water lapped at his legs.

"Nh…" Marco couldn't help but let out a small noise when the other man looked over at him like that, gnawing a bit harder at his lip. He had felt a bit wrong, just watching the other man pleasure himself, but that glazed look in his eyes was enough to shatter that sensation to pieces. A shudder of pleasure ran down his spine. It felt intoxicating to have Jean look at him like that.. 

Suddenly tasting metal when Jean jerked and trembled as he came, Marco realized he had bitten down on his lip just a bit too hard to stifle a small whine he hadn't even realized was in him. He suckled gently at his lip in an attempt to stop the bleeding, watching Jean panting and trying to recover. "Feeling better…?" Marco's tone was only a bit teasing but still genuine when he spoke. 

Jean  _ did _ feel better, even if his cock was still laying thick and heavy against his stomach, wilted but no-where near completely. Unlike this morning and unlike Marco’s it didn’t appear to want to receded and he felt spike of panic at the difference, as if ic meant something was wrong. Jean shakily pushed himself to a sitting position and curled his knees close to him, arms wrapping around them as he gave an unsure sort of nod and watched the water instead of Marco’s face

“Thank you…” He said, even though he’d been the one to bring himself to that end, and Marco too. He could still faintly taste the other man in his mouth and he licked at his lips idly. 

Reaching awkwardly behind himself without looking, Jean grabbed his wet pants and shoved them into the stream, one had still wrapped around his curled legs as he swished the fabric about in an attempt to get it a bit cleaner. He too slipped down a little more careful to stay curled up as he sat in the water until it was lapping coolly at his nipples and he couldn't stop the shiver coursing through him and making him give a soft noise of frustration.

Marco gave a curious tilt of his head when Jean seemed to be avoiding looking at him and keeping himself curled up. Was he okay? Was he upset over Marco watching him as he had? Was he just feeling awkward about being exposed in front of him? Were his negative feelings from earlier settling back in? 

Standing slowly, Marco moved closer to the edge of the water. He crouched down so as not to tower over the other man before fixing him with the most reassuring, open, talk-to-me sort of look he could muster. "Everything okay…? You seem… uhm… bothered?" 

Marco wasn't sure exactly what it was but the discomfort in Jean's posture and body language set him on edge. He wanted to fix it, whatever the 'it' was. But he also worried he was somehow part of that 'it'. Marco wasn't sure what he would feel if that were the case. He swatted the thought away, focusing on the present. There was no point worrying over possibly unfounded concerns. And given his experiences with Jean it could either be something big or something entirely insignificant and the man's reaction would be the same, so it was impossible to assume without being told. 

Jean scrubbed his pants against the rocks on the bottom of the stream before swirling them through it to get any silt off of them. When Marco moved, coming closer to him, Jean froze and tensed slightly as he eyed the other man sideways. The look on Marco’s face was odd but soothing and his words were soft and concerned too, it made Jean feel worse about his current situation.

His body was strange as it was, but it was being weird again and it wasn’t what happened earlier or with Marco’s and he wasn’t supposed to still  _ be _ like this. He couldn’t ask Marco to fix him again though, he’d already done that twice and didn’t that make him tired? Jean shook his head quickly and squeezed his legs tighter, unable to stop the sharp hitch of his breath at the pressure on his groin and how much more sensitive it was now that he’d cum. His face blossomed red at the unwanted reaction and Jean ducked his head, resting his forehead against his knees and hiding in the shadow of his arm as he brought it up to rest over the top of his head, pants still in hand.

Marco frowned at that reaction and the little hitch of breath. Something with his body then? Was it the nudity? Did he hurt himself somehow? When Jean progressed to literally hiding his head in his arm. Marco let out a huff, shifting slightly. Now he was definitely concerned. 

"Come on. It's obvious you're not okay. Please just tell me what's bothering you. Is it something I did? Do you want me to go? Are you okay? Give me some sort of direction at least. I can't read minds, Jean. I just want to help." His words were pleading, if a bit frustrated. 

It was true. Marco did want to help. That was all he ever wanted. But with Jean that feeling was… different. He didn't just want to help him because it was the right thing to do like usual but rather also because he didn't want the other man suffering needlessly. He was too fascinating, too unique for that. 

As Marco continued to ask questions Jean felt his frustration growing, self-conscious already although he didn’t quite know that’s what the gnawing, hot feeling in his gut was he stood up abruptly. Jean shoved his pants down over his groin with stiff hands and gave an indignant, embarrassed look at Marco. “M’good. M’fine so stop asking!” 

He couldn’t look at Marco as he said that though, tried to walk and found himself on still trembling legs. The way his hands and pants were pressed to his erection didn’t help either and the over-stimulation made him stumble and end up on all fours near the riverbank that Marco was stood on. Jean bowed his head and slumped as he curled in on himself again with the water barely touching his feet now and the warm breeze in the air tickling his naked skin. 

“I...It wont… go away…” He finally sobbed.

Marco's frown deepened at Jean's indignant reaction, standing up and taking a small half-step closer. He did his best to tell himself he wasn't offended by the other's callous reaction to his concern. But well, how could he not be. The way he covered himself with his pants so quickly only increased Marco's concern that whatever the issue was it had to do with him. 

"Jean…" Marco started to speak before suddenly Jean was stumbling and on all fours. He moved in closer quickly, worry spiking. That was when Jean spoke and Marco paused for a moment before closing in, kneeling at his side as his thoughts and worries deflated away. He was throwing a little tantrum because his erection hadn't gone away? And that was apparently concerning to him? Marco could only wonder what bizarre thoughts were going through Jean's mind. Though, he didn't think he was one to talk with how his concerned thoughts had escalated quickly out of proportion as well. 

He couldn't help sparing a moment to trail his eyes down the back of the other man's naked form. Marco suppressed a small groan of appreciation, hiding it in a chuckle instead. "Is that all…? That's what you're all worried about?" He rolled his eyes slightly at the absurdity. 

"Maybe you're just not… satisfied." Marco's tone dropped lower, quieter. He hesitated before reaching out, trailing a hand down one side of Jean's back from his shoulder to the very top of his ass, skimming across his body and back up the other side. He didn't want to push too far when Jean was already on edge, even if it was over something silly, but the temptation was strong. 

Jean didn’t move when Marco came to rest at his side, so close. But then he  _ laughed _ and Jean felt a humiliated noise bubbling out of him before he could stop it, being laughed at felt horrible but the way Marco was talking and then stroking him had him shivering and gasping and he lifted his head to pin the other man with a hot glare.

“It’s broken! Yours didn’t do it! It felt good and that stuff came out so it should go away already.” He groused, pouting despite his intense flush. Jean couldn’t help the way he leaned into the touch slightly though, or the way his back arched and his glare softened for just a fraction. “I-It feels weird… everything… is too much it almost hurts when… when I touch …” He groaned.

Marco raised his brows in an almost-challenge at the glare. "I promise, your dick's not broken. It just happens sometimes." He thought for a moment before pensively adding on to his statement. "Given… your make-up, I wouldn't be surprised if it happens more often to you than most, honestly." He wasn't entirely sure but given the fact Jean was on some level put together with sex in mind, it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest. 

"You're just extra sensitive because you just came… But your body just… isn't done yet." Marco thought for a moment, figuring a way to explain it that Jean might understand. His hand kept up its cyclical motion across Jean's back, idly dipping lower with each pass until it ghosted across his ass gently. "It's like if you eat something but you're still hungry. Sure, you had food and it was good, but you still want more. Sure, you could ignore it cause you did eat, but you'll still feel hungry for a while. Same idea." 

Jean shuddered and trembled at the touch of the hand on his back as Marco spoke, his head hanging and his heart thudding so strongly it felt like it was in his throat. When the hand reached his ass, however, he completely froze and held his breath as fingers dug into the shale beneath him and ended with his fists tight around the small stones in a white knuckled hold.

Marco wasn’t going to do  _ that _ was he? He wouldn’t.. right? He wasn’t like the Maker, he hadn’t hurt Jean yet although he’d been angry at him more than once… pulled his hair.. pushed him into the water… but in comparison to the Maker that all felt kind of nice for Jean. So he wouldn’t do  _ that _ … right? But he couldn’t stop the way his body tensed and his breath refused to come and his head became light.

Then he was moving and his hand shot back to grab Marco’s wrist and his breath shot out of him hard and fast before he was gasping in small anxious pants and his eyes were wide and nervous and tear filled as he stared at Marco. “D-don’t..hurt me…” He whimpered. 

“Notthere…not like that..not again.. I can’t.. I can’t... ” Despite his sudden attack of panic Jean’s erection still hung proud between his legs, wilting only very slightly. Marco  _ wouldn’t _ hurt him, Marco had  _ fixed _ him but at the same time he couldn’t know that for sure, yet.

Marco slowed his movements when Jean tensed. He frowned slightly, watching the other's body language, seeing how even his breaths froze. And then Jean was grabbing his wrist and looking at him with that terrified look. Marco pulled his hand away from Jean's ass instantly but not out of his grip. 

"Jean…" Marco's breath went from his lungs in one sharp, deflating breath, eyes wide and concerned. The 'again' of Jean's moment of panic was what stuck with him the most, breaking him slightly with a spike of protectiveness. He scooted forward ever so slightly, moving to put his other hand over Jean's where it wrapped around his wrist. 

Running his fingers over the back of Jean's hand, he shook his head quickly. His words were quiet but clear, eyes searching the other man's face. "Jean no, shh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. I won't. I won't do anything if you don't want me to. Nothing." 

Marco gave a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. You're okay. I just… wanna make you feel good. That… it's meant to feel good. When it's done right, anyway. I didn't mean to freak you out. I wasn't thinking. Sorry. We can uhm… Head back. If you want." 

Marco had stopped. Jean could feel a warm sort of relief wash over him because  _ Marco had stopped _ . The Maker hadn’t stopped, but Marco  _ had _ . He hadn’t even ripped Jean’s panicked hand away from his wrist, instead holding it and leaning in to comfort him and apologise and Jean felt safe and guilty. 

Without saying anything in response Jean sat up and all but climbed into Marco’s lap, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and pressing his face against the side of his neck as he trembled and tried to make his breathing return to normal. Marco felt warm and  _ safe _ and Jean didn’t want to move or let go, didn’t want Marco to leave or be angry at him. 

Jean wrapped his legs around Marco’s waist after a moment, too, and nuzzled at him as he clung. His erection trapped between their bodies twitched at the closeness and the pressure but Jean didn’t do anything about it. “I’m sorry…”

Marco stiffened only for a moment when Jean suddenly climbed onto him before relaxing again. He hadn't expected Jean to be wrapping around him like some sort of oversized koala. He forced out a shaky breath, relaxing himself further consciously as he gently wrapped his arms around the other man in a loose embrace. 

Heart racing through his veins when the other nuzzled against him, Marco's hands slowly moved up and down Jean's back again. This time he was deliberately staying well clear of his ass. He felt the twitch of Jean's dick trapped between them and stifled a small noise as best as he could. Not just popping an erection himself with the other completely naked in his lap and nuzzling him was a herculean effort. No matter how much Marco tried to distract himself, he felt his cock stirring. 

"Don't be sorry… I didn't mean to scare you. I just… forgot you only had… bad associations with that. I'm sorry." Marco turned his head slightly, impulsively pressing a soft kiss to the side of Jean's head though he knew the gesture might not be understood. 

The hands on his back made him tense slightly at first but soon Jean was arching into the touch with a soft mewling noise even as Marco made a faint sound of his own. The kiss to the side of his head made a warm fluttery feeling blossom in his chest and Jean couldn’t help but press his face harder against the side of Marco’s neck, gasping softly.

Then he mirrored the action and pressed a gentle kiss of his own to the other man’s throat, opening his mouth to gingerly scrape his lips across the skin before pressing another kiss, then another that soon changed to nips and licks. He couldn’t stop himself from rocking slowly in Marco’s lap after a short while, with the immediate ‘danger’ gone and the soft way he was being cradled in the other man’s arms Jean felt little resistance about starting to grind against Marco’s stomach.

“Mm...nh… Marco…” He purred out on a soft moan, hands gripping the other man’s back tightly as his thighs tightened around his waist.

Marco gasped slightly at the first kiss to his throat. It was soon followed by a series of small pleased and breathy noises at the nipping and licking. He tilted his head to the side instinctively, exposing his neck further with a shuddering breath. 

"Nh…" He gave a low, needy moan when Jean started grinding against his stomach. Marco's cock felt tight in his pants and Jean sitting on him wasn't helping. He couldn't help his own hips rocking up slightly despite himself, trying to resist just flat out grinding against Jean's ass. He didn't want to freak him out again but  _ fuck _ he wanted the friction so badly. 

Jean loved  the noises he was pulling from Marco as he attended his neck with nips and licks and the odd soft press of his lips. Then he was grinding against Jean and he had to try his best not to bite hard enough to pull flesh free because he jolted in a nervous sort of surprise. Even if the friction felt good, even if Marco’s reactions were pleasing.

So Jean shifted backwards and spread his legs wide as he arched his back and angled his pelvis down until it was their dicks rubbing against each other blissfully. He didn’t even try to stifle the moans that were starting to break free at regular intervals now that there was some very deliberate pressure against his dick.

“Marco...Master...more… hhah...harder… good... _ so good _ ” Jean groaned, grabbing fistfuls of Marco’s hair in his hands and biting down on his neck with a muffled growl of yearning.

Marco let Jean shift their position, adjusting his grip around him as he did so. He moaned out at the suddenly increased friction, scraping his nails across the other's back slightly as he shuddered. That was better, now that he didn't have to worry about rocking his hips against the other's ass. "J-Jean… F-fuck…" 

His pants were incredibly tight already but the pressure of Jean grinding against him felt good as well. "A-ah! Holy fuck…" Marco arched with a sharp moan and a buck of his hips at the bite to his neck and tug of his hair, clawing at Jean's back again. 

"Nh… Fuck, tight… I gotta…" Marco moved to slide one hand between them, undoing his pants and shifting them slightly to free his trapped cock. Marco gasped at the relatively cool air on his heated flesh. He moved his fingers to wrap around them both as best he could, a surprisingly difficult task given the size of the other man's length. Marco gave a tight stroke as his head fell back slightly with a shaky moan at the sensation. 

Jean gasped and shuddered violently as his back was scratched and Marco swore and bucked his hips. He felt off balance and dizzy from the amount of  _ want _ that was throbbing through him and concentrating itself in his dick. A throb that increased when Marco put his hand between them and freed his erection, pressing them together skin to skin and gripping with a firm stroke.

Jean choked on his panting breath then and sank his teeth int Marco a bit harder, pushed his pelvis down a bit harder as he shoved his dick through the tight embrace of the other man’s fist. 

“M-Marco.. Marco.. more… harder… need you.. please… please.” He gasped out the words over and over again against the bruised skin of Marco’s neck as he pulled harder on the dark hair in his hands, letting one go to shoved a hand towards Marco’s face and press two of his fingers into the other man’s gasping mouth. Jean lifted his head slightly, still grinding his hips and pressing his fingers into the wet heat as he watched with rapt attention before leaning in and licking at Marco’s mouth too, groaning and spreading his fingers in a scissoring motion.

The harder bite made a whimper of pleasure rip its way from Marco's throat. Not needing to be asked twice, Marco gripped a bit tighter around their lengths as he stroked hard and fast. He bucked his hips up against the friction and the sensation of Jean's cock against his. "Ah…" 

Then there were fingers pressing into his open mouth and his eyes rolled back slightly with a heavy groan. Marco closed his lips around them as best he could, suckling and moving his tongue against them teasingly. And occasionally his teeth, scraping against Jean's knuckles lightly. The licking at his mouth and spreading of the fingers made him give a keening whine, saliva running from the corner of his mouth. 

"Mnhhh…" Marco moaned around Jean's fingers. His hips bucked almost violently, the hand still wrapped around Jean's back clawed its way to his side and adopting an almost bruising grip. 

Marco’s mouth was hot and wet and felt  _ so good _ around his fingers, especially the way the other man was moving his tongue and Jean whimpered as a violent shot of pleasure went straight to his dick and pre-cum shot from him in a clear, sticky string. He wanted to know what that mouth felt like, if it felt as good as it didn around his fingers and as good as Marco had made it seem when he was thrusting into Jean’s mouth not that long before.

But he couldn’t hold himself back any more and he gave a shuddering whine as he pressed his forehead to Marco’s and bucked his hips clumsily. “I...it’s...coming… Ugh… coming.. haa… now!” He gasped, squeezing his eyes closed against the sensation as he came for the second time within a short period. 

There was less cum this time, but the orgasm was just as intense as the others Jean had experienced, and he kept rutting against Marco and into his hand as he rode out the waves of his climax. Fingers still in Marco’s mouth although he thought he made have shoved them too far, gripped too hard… he could hardly think right now but in the back of his mind he hoped he hadn’t hurt Marco’s face. 

Marco kept stroking them together, the movements becoming slick with Jean's cum as he stroked him through his climax. The fingers in his mouth shoved in deeper and Marco gagged, tears coming to the corners of his eyes. The thought of choking on Jean's cock instead of just his fingers came to Marco's mind and he gave a broken moan. 

Releasing Jean's cock, he wrapped his hand around just his length. Marco started stroking himself harder and faster, continuing to essentially fellate the fingers of the man in his lap. Between his harsh thrusts, how his mind focused on the thought of Jean's cock thrusting into his mouth and fucking his throat, and the stimulation in his mouth, it didn't take long for him to get close. 

"Nh… Ngh!" Marco's jaw went slack with a sloppy moan as he came. His hips bucked harshly into his hand as his release spurted between them, his other hand gripping tight to Jean's side so he didn't accidentally knock him off his lap. He could feel the strands of saliva sliding down his chin as he breathed heavily through his nose, struggling to catch his breath. 

Jean was spent but he couldn’t help fingering Marco’s mouth as the other man finished himself off, opening his eyes and keeping their foreheads pressed as he watched close up the way that Marco’s eyes teared up. He groaned when Marco came and sighed with satisfaction before pulling his fingers free and purring.

“So pretty…” Jean breathed as he leaned in and licked up the saliva Marco as drooled out whilst his fingers had been in his mouth. Then he licked ad Marco’s tears before returning to his lips and pressing his own against them in an unsure and somewhat clumsy kiss, just like the one Marco had ressed to the side of Jean’s head. His hand dropped from Marcos hair and he embraced him again, cuddling the other man as he pulled back only to press another kiss to Marco’s lips. It felt nice, and safe, and warm.

Marco shuddered at the sound of Jean purring at him, still panting and dazed. He flushed at the comment before whimpering at the licking, blush darkening. A small shudder ran through him. 

The unexpected kiss made Marco's breath hitch. He opened his eyes for a moment, not entirely sure when he had closed them, before letting them fall shut again at the second kiss and this time returning it. He held the other man close with a soft sigh, nipping at his lower lip before kissing it gently. 

A soft smile played at his lips as he finally caught his breath, heartbeat returning to normal. "Feeling better now then?" Marco was beginning to realize Jean's nature and history made him a bit mercurial. But if nothing else, the last day had been full of surprises. And that wasn't a bad thing. 

Jean drew in a deep breath through his nose as Marco kissed him back, leaning away just enough to watch the other man’s smile as he spoke. “Mnh… Y-yeah… I feel good.” He said, feeling completely sated for the first time he could remember. There was no hunger, no anger, nothing. Just Marco in his arms and that strange warm flutter in his chest.

Jean sagged against Marco again, uncaring of the mess between their bodies as he murred and pressed himself close in another hug. He liked being close to Marco like this, Jean could easily fall asleep right now to the warmth and the sound of the stream and the rustling leaves and the birdsong all around them. He closed his eyes and murmured Marco’s name under his breath as he felt the drowsiness pulling at him.

"Good then. I'm glad." Marco chuckled at how unexpectedly cuddly Jean was. This was a very different side to him. A side that Marco quite liked. He soaked in the warm and comfortable sensation of the other man's body pressed against him, a broad smile across his face. 

The sleepy murmur of his name made Marco actually move, jostling Jean slightly in an attempt to wake him up slightly. As much as he didn't want to give up the comfortable feeling of Jean curled against him, he also didn't want to have to try to carry him back to the cottage. Between the other man's nakedness and the fact it would be getting dark fairly soon, that just seemed like an awful idea. And besides that, his legs were falling asleep, he realized with a grimace. "C'mon. You need some rest. You shouldn't doze off out here." 

When Marco moved him, Jean growled softly in protest. He was comfortable and so fucking drained and he didn’t want to move from where they were because Marco felt so good. “Dun wanna.” Jean said almost petulantly, wrapping his arms more tightly around Marco and nuzzling against him more.

Then he felt something chilled and wet drop on his spine, followed by another and he sighed. The fact that it hadn’t rained so far today had been a small blessing considering the time of year that it was, but now it was starting to shower lightly and Jean reluctantly pulled himself away from Marco and stood on legs as shaky as a newborn foals.

He wanted to help Marco up, too, but Jean felt like he could hardly hold his own weight right now and he gave an apologetic look as he scooped up his wet pants and swayed a little. “I feel weird… like.. really tired.” 

Marco laughed at Jean's petulant response. He gave him a small squeezing hug before Jean pulled away. A small hiss escaped him when Jean's weight was suddenly off him. Standing with a small wince as the blood returned to his legs properly, he shook them out one at a time to get the feeling back. He did up his pants, frowning up at the sky for a moment before turning his attention back to Jean. It would have been nice to get back before the rain started. But it was only water. 

"I'm not surprised." Marco stretched, his voice cracking a bit as he did. "It can take a lot out of you to cum once. Much less twice back to back. Or well… three times in a day." As if to punctuate his point, a yawn escaped him. He looked down for a moment and blanched. If his shirt hadn't been a mess before, it certainly was now. Between the splattering of cum, the dirt, and the blood on the torn sleeve, he wasn't sure there was much hope for it anymore. 

Jean watched Marco yawn and had to stifle one of his own in response. He wondered if Marco felt as boneless as he did, decided he probably did and then felt his face flare red as he followed Marco’s line of sight to his shirt. It was covered in their mingled juices and Jean chewed on his lip in response to the  _ very _ fresh memories.

“You can have clothes when we get back.” He said, sounding almost unsure of himself. As if he should really ask permission but was playing it dangerous by not doing so. Those clothes were the Makers though, even if he was dead and not coming back would it really be alright to use them? He felt more certain about Marco using them than himself, so he inwardly decided to let the other man wear some whilst he remained naked and washed his clothes in a pot of cold soapy water as usual.

More rain started to fall onto him and Jean hissed and reached out to grab Marco’s wrist with a hand, gently tugging him toward the cottage before it turned into a downpour like the day before.

Marco gave a small laugh, scratching at the back of his head. He wasn't entirely sure what the reason behind Jean's unusual tone was. But he wasn't going to deny a chance at a clean shirt, at least. "Ahm… thanks. I'd appreciate that." 

He blinked when Jean hissed at the rain and started to tug him along, following a few steps behind. Marco couldn't help thinking the other seemed like a cat when he did that. He looked down at his wrist where it was being grabbed with a small frown, not sure if he should say something or not. Instead, Marco hesitated before pulling his wrist out of Jean's grip. He quickly laced their fingers together instead before Jean could misinterpret the action as him having done something wrong. 

When Marco pulled out of his grip Jean panicked for a moment before he felt the other man’s hand in his. Somehow the action made him feel bashful and he ducked his head as he felt heat overtake his face and ears again, Jean wrapped his fingers around Marco’s hand and squeezed lightly before speeding up a bit as the rain started to come down harder.

“Dun like rain.” He groused with a shiver. “Well… I like the noise but not the wet.” He clarified as he stumbled over a rock and swore under his breath at it. Finally they made it back to the cottage and Jean pushed his way inside, only to freeze and stare at the puddle on the floor with a guilty, humiliated expression.

  
“Ngh..” His breath hitched in a dry sob of embarrassment and he didn’t quite know what to do with the emotion, or the situation as the rain started to pelt the roof and windows.


	6. Unearthing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean still fears the past. Marco takes out the trash. Dark secrets lurk beneath the cottage.

Smiling at the blush his actions caused in Jean's face, Marco squeezed his hand back in response. At the Jean's grumbling, Marco mentally confirmed his notion that Jean had the attitude of a cat. Moody, didn't like getting wet in the rain, cuddly only on certain occasions. He rolled his eyes slightly.

"Gathered that. Rain's good though. It's fresh and clean. And it gives the plants the water they need. So it's like concentrated life." He punctuated his point with a deep inhale and a satisfied sigh, still letting himself be led along at the other's pace.

When they were finally inside, Marco frowned at the… issue. He let go of Jean's hand after giving it a reassuring squeeze to clap his own together, going into his problem-solving process. "Right then. So help me drag this rug outside so we can take advantage of the rain to rinse it off. Looks like it probably needed it anyway before this. And then we'll get whatever's left cleaned up. We'll need some water but not much so if you've got a bucket we can stick outside while we take care of the rug, that'd be great."

Jean wasn’t expecting the squeeze to his hand or the way Marco just sort of calmly started to think on what they should be doing. He was expecting irritation and disappointment when the other man was reminded of what he’d done, how filthy he’d been, but there was none of that and Jean felt his eyes water - annoyingly - for a completely different reason.

Jean scrubbed at his face hard enough to make his nose red before striding over to the hearth and pulling a wooden bucket out from between it and the bookshelf next to it with a soft grunt of effort since it had been wedged in pretty tight. Once he had it Jean walked back over to the door and glared at the rain falling beyond it before sighing and walking out a few feet to place the bucket down, turning to quickly jog back inside.

He didn’t seem to care that he was completely naked, or that somewhere along the way he’d dropped his pants - he thought that was them in a pile by the door, though. “Will the rug be ok in the rain? If I ruined it we should just throw it away.” He said, scuffing at the floor with his foot and not making eye contact.

Marco did his best to keep the fond smile off his face when Jean was rubbing at his face. He didn't want the other man to think he was making fun of him or something absurd. Not with how well the last short while had gone. The way Jean went outside naked so casually made him raise a brow in surprise. He wondered if he should say something. What was his immune system like? Would he get sick from being cold and wet for too long?

Frowning slightly, Marco shrugged his shoulders at the question as he moved to look at the rug more closely. He picked up one corner, tugging on it. "No, see it looks old but it's sturdy. The rain won't hurt it. ...You do know you can uhm… take the time to get dressed first though, right…? You could catch a chill…"

The last thing Marco wanted was for Jean to get sick over something that in large part was his fault anyway. If he hadn't been gone for so long… But then there also wouldn't have been that rather… nice experience by the stream. He shoved the thought away in its entirety, forcing himself to focus.

Jean watched Marco picking up the corner of the rug and frowned at it, as if it has insulted him. “Dun have any more clothes.” He said, bending to grab the edge of the rug and fold it so it would fit through the door more easily. The floor beneath was dusty but the grey flagstone was intact,aside from one that was cracked in a spiderweb pattern and when Jean saw it he shuddered violently and felt a little sick with the memory that had caused it.

“I won't die. Get sick all the time, not dead yet.” He said and grabbed the folded edge of the rug, pulling on it and starting to move backwards without waiting for Marco to move or help him.

"Oh… I thought um… Well you offered me a shirt before…?" Marco's words were unsure and confused when he spoke. How did Jean have so few things? "You shouldn't just let yourself get sick though! That's not good for you."

The furrow in Marco's brow deepened as Jean just started to drag the rug away. He went to try to grab a side to help but paused when he saw the crack in the floor. He reached out to touch it curiously. "Huh… I wonder what happened here."

“That’s Makers clothes. You can have them but I’m just me so I shouldn’t really.” He said, tugging until Marco stopped to touch the crack in the floor. Jean felt a sick twist in his stomach and dropped the rug with a dull thud and stood there with his arms down at his sides and his face blank.

“My face.” He said. Grit his teeth and then grabbed the rug again  and started to pull it outside more violently, stumbling over the threshold and only just righting himself before he fell flat on his ass. The rain pelted his back and he shivered and growled at it, as if the noise would scare it into submission and make it stop falling from the sky.

Marco blinked at Jean's answer about the clothes. That made no sense. He needed to figure out how to respond to that. If the guy was dead and Jean was the one who lived there now, then logically any of his maker's things were his. So why didn't Jean see it that way? The thud of the rug made him jump, eyes darting up to look at the other man. The look on his face was… unlike anything he had seen from him. And the words were only even more confusing. Marco hurried after him when he saw him almost fall. He wasn't sure what he had said but apparently asking about the flagstone had been a grave mis-step.

"Sorry. I… I didn't mean to upset you? I'm just… what'd you mean your face? ...Wait no, sorry, nevermind. You don't have to tell me. Sorry." Marco looked down for a moment before he grabbed hold of part of the rug suddenly, tugging on it to spread it out.

“M’not upset.” Jean said quietly, helping Marco lie the rug out flat and standing there to watch the rain bouncing off of it before soaking in and making it all as dark as the stain he’d been responsible for was. His dislike of the rain momentarily forgotten as he sort of zoned out, remembering why the floor was cracked and how much it had hurt. He stared and he grit his teeth and Marco was apologising again and it was Jean who should be sorry.

“Th-the first time… when I had sex, it hurt a lot and I was making too much noise so I was punished. The arms I have, they weren’t mine before - they were the Makers. So he used them to punish me. That’s why the floor is broken.” He spoke quietly, wanting Marco to know because not only had he asked he’d also been sorry and worried and Jean didn’t want to be left alone again so he told him, even though it made him feel sick.

He kept staring at the rug as a violent shiver rippled through him. It was hot but the rain was cold and there was a breeze today, too. “I..I’ll get you clothes.” Jean said all of a sudden and rushed back inside without lifting his gaze from the floor by his feet the entire time.

Marco's eyes went wide when Jean explained the story behind the crack in the floor. He felt a nauseous churning in his gut. That wasn't sex. And it broke something inside of him that Jean thought it was. No, that was evil. Just how callous and awful was the fucker who put the other man together? The more he learned, the less he wanted to know. But the more he understood. "Jean I…" He didn't know what to say, trailing off pathetically.  

Then Jean shuddered and hurried off without looking up and Marco was left standing in the rain. He felt the familiar icy prickling in his palm. Marco knew if the guy weren't dead, he would kill him himself without a moment's hesitation. But there was something he could do, at least. Something he should do.

Turning to head back inside, there was a glint of determination in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Marco crossed the space of the cottage to the chair he'd been avoiding looking at since he first spotted it. He tugged the smashed skull off the corpse, moving to gently set it in the corner, what was left of its face pointed toward the wall. He would take that away later as well, once the innocent mice living in it had evacuated themselves to a new home. Stalking back over to the body, Marco paused for only a moment before he tugged off his ruined shirt, using it to wrap up the bones quickly and efficiently into a small heap before heading back out into the rain with his morbid makeshift bale in tow, intending on tossing the bones by the grave he had dug earlier that day.

Jean had crossed the room and was digging through the chest at the foot of the bed, looking for something for Marco to wear that would be comfortable enough. When Marco came in Jean kept his eyes firmly planted on what he was doing, the shame he felt right now was almost overwhelming and he feld odd and awkward. But when he heard Marco doing something he’d not quite heard before he turned around and stared blankly as the remains of his Maker were bundled into the other man’s shirt.

Jean was torn between the hot flutter of his heart at seeing Marco shirtless and the intense sick panic as his Makers bones were moved and bundled up and taken out of the door into the rain. He was frozen where he was, eyes wide and mouth open around words that wouldn’t come out and he felt light headed. Something bad was going to happen. Something _really bad_ was gonna happen because he’d been disturbed and Jean was going to get punished now and Marco would be too and Jean grabbed his head with both hands and hunched over with a strangled noise.

Marco was going to get punished. Marco was going to get _hurt_.

After choking back a few gulps of air Jean shot to his feet and ran into the rain after Marco, he couldn’t see him so he followed the faint noises he heard and the footsteps through the now muddy soil and when he saw the other man he grabbed him around the waist from behind, dropping to his knees until his cheek was resting on Marco’s butt and he was near hyperventilating. “D-don’t something bad will happen, you'll get hurt, you’ll be punished you can’t move him!”

Marco yelped when there were suddenly arms wrapped around his waist, almost knocking him off balance. He relaxed slightly when he realized it was only Jean but the panicked tone in his voice and the way he clung to him broke him a bit more. His chest ached. This man was absolutely terrified of someone who had been dead for ages. He hadn't seen real _terror_ in Jean before and it was… unsettling.

He tossed the bundle of bones off to the side before carefully prying Jean's arms from around his waist. Marco turned and gripped the other's hands gently in one of his own as he dropped to his knees in front of Jean, knees squelching slightly in the wet ground. "Jean… It's okay" His tone was gentle, deliberately reassuring.

"It's okay. Breathe. Deep breaths. Slow. Breathe." Marco raised his other hand to set it against Jean's cheek as gently and slowly as he could. The way he held Jean's hands was as if he thought they were glass. And he was afraid they might be. "He's _dead_ okay? He can't hurt anyone anymore. He can't hurt _you_ anymore. Never again. You're safe. He's gone. You don't need to be afraid of him anymore. You're safe. It's okay."

Jean couldn’t really focus through the tears and rain in his eyes but Marco’s hand grasping his grounded him somewhat. The other man’s words to breathe slowly and deeply helped him too, gradually he stopped gasping and gulping down mouthfuls of air that made his stomach hurt and his head spin and he sagged forward, resting his forehead against Marco’s shoulder.

“Marco… Marco… _I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.._ ” Jean sobbed, this time through genuine panic and stress and not just through humiliation. He knew… _knew_ that dead men couldn’t hurt him but at the same time the Maker had been so powerful in Jean’s eyes, had hurt him so much and controlled every aspect of his life and _scared_ him and Jean couldn’t shake the fear that something awful would happen.

Shivering and stuttering wordless noises Jean lifted his head again and blindly pressed his mouth to Marco’s in a desperate kiss, pushing their naked chests together just to _feel_ him. there was nothing sexual about his actions - at least not to Jean - it was all to feel Marco’s warmth and safety. Jean had never felt this way before, never felt that a human was _safe_. Not like this.

"It's okay… Shh… It's okay…" Marco muttered his reassurances in response to Jean's sobbing words. The sudden kiss and press of Jean's skin against his made him gasp softly before returning the kiss. The expanse of warm wet skin touching his felt so good. But he didn't dare let himself get lost in it. Not now.

Marco broke from the kiss to scatter a series of small kisses across Jean's cheeks. He dropped the other man's hands in favor of wrapping him up in a gentle embrace, kissing the side of Jean's head softly. He muttered more small reassurances, rocking them gently. "It's okay. Just relax. You're safe now."

The chill of the rain was biting into Marco's skin now and he felt goosebumps rising up on his arms. But the crisp freshness of the air helped him breathe easier and think more smoothly, keeping him calm as he tried to calm Jean as well. "C'mon, should we head back in? You're soaked." Marco was soaked as well, he realized distantly. But somehow that didn't seem as important.

Jean leaned in to the embrace, fingers twitching but not really trusting his strength when he was in a state like this so he let them remain limply between them as Marco kissed the side of his head and Jean trembled some more.

“Mnh... s’cold.” He said in agreement and reluctantly pulled away from Marco’s arms. “I..I dunno what to pick for you to wear… so you can pick anything.” He said as he stood and scrubbed at his wet face with the backs of his hands, momentarily digging his knuckles into his eyes until he saw white, at which point he dropped his hands back down to his sides and waited for Marco to stand and start making his way to the cottage.

Jean would follow him, he wanted to be between him and the discarded bones even if they were nothing more than that. If he was behind the other man at least he could prepare for any rear attack in advance. Or at least… more quickly than Marco, who apparently couldn’t hear or smell as well as Jean could.

Marco lamented the loss of the warmth of Jean in his arms, a shiver running through him as he realized how cold he was. He stood a moment later, wiping at the mud on the knees of his pants with the back of one hand and flicking it off. Oddly, the mud on his knees didn't bother him much. It was a common enough occurrence when he was picking herbs and plants. "Alright. Thanks. I'm fine with anything really, though."

He noted to himself that he would have to convince Jean to put something on too. But that was a conversation better had once they were away from the bundle of bones. And ideally out of the rain. Marco turned to start walking, heading back in the direction of the cottage.

It took him only a few steps before he realized Jean was lingering behind him. It wasn't hard to figure out why. The idea that those bones still held so much power over Jean made Marco's heart ache. Part of him wanted to smash them into a million pieces, even though he knew it wouldn't make a difference to Jean's irrational fear. Instead, Marco turned halfway back to Jean and held out a hand as he continued moving sideways slowly, offering it out to the other with a soft smile. "Come on. I know you're scared. But it's okay. You're safe. Relax."

Jean was looking behind him as Marco turned around to hold his hand out, so it took him a moment to realise what the other man was doing and he eyed the hand warily. Not because he was afraid of _Marco_ but because he still didn’t know if he’d end up breaking the other man’s hand should something happen and shock him. But he wanted so badly to be touching Marco…

So Jean reached out slowly and carefully and took Marco’s hand in his trembling fingers, barely wrapping them around the other’s palm as they walked and the rain felt like it was penetrating him to the bone now.

When they once again made it back, Jean followed Marco inside and almost purred at the warmth from the glowing embers of the fire. It needed refueling but Jean could hardly think about that for the moment. He stumbled on the wooden edge of something in the floor but ignored the small trap door in favour of letting go of Marco’s hand and falling to his knees next to the bed, pressing his face into the sheets and feeling drained and exhausted.

Smile spreading when Jean took his hand, he gave the other's fingers a firm squeeze. It was a simple gesture, but it was an 'it's okay' and an 'I'm here' both at once. Still, he couldn't have been more relieved to step inside and out of the rain.

Marco noticed when Jean stumbled, spotting the little trap door that he tripped on. He was curious, incredibly so. But cold and sore, the last thing Marco wanted was to risk the fire going out. He set about adding more wood to the fire before turning back to the little door. He wondered if maybe he should just ask what it was. Glancing at Jean, he saw how barely conscious the other man was. He wasn't sure he would get a satisfying answer. And he shouldn't just pry. But he was so curious. Why would there be a door? Where did it lead? What was down there?

It was only a short debate with himself before he was crossing over to the trap door and tugging it open. Dust billowed up along with the scent of stale air and Marco coughed, leaning back for a moment to breathe. Clearly it hadn't been opened in some time. He leaned forward again, peering into the darkness. There was a steep but narrow wooden structure, somewhere between a ladder and a staircase leading down into the darkness. Marco looked around for a moment before snatching an old lantern off one of the shelves and lighting it. He returned to the little hole in the floor, swallowing heavily before stepping down into the stale darkness.

Jean was half asleep by the time Marco had lit the fire again, too tired to do much more than cling to the sheets and shiver as the warmth of the one roomed cottage dried him and warmed him.

Below the trap door the dark space extended far beyond the expected range, it didn’t stop where the walls of the cottage did, instead it carried on far enough that the light from the lantern Marco was holding had no chance to penetrate the darkness. It was musty and stale and surprisingly dry considering it was underground.

A few feet away from the ladder was a stone table, long enough and wide enough that it could have been a bed and covered in dark stains that could have been anything from ar to blood. The only wall close to where Marco was standing was directly behind the ladder downwards, shelves filled with large specimen jars and vials of liquid of varying colours were placed there.

Limbs, organs even jars of fur or hair were stored there as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To the left of the large stone table was a void, a dark endless seeming pit with a grate over it and very faint sloshing sounds echoed up from the depths and if one got close enough they would be able to smell the sickly sweet smell of old decay. A _lot_ of it.

Scrolls and books and files were scattered all over various work benches and the shelves of specimens extended far beyond the light of the lantern, the glint of metal shining far off as the lantern moved and the flame inside flickered.

Marco glanced around the room in all directions he could see before looking at the closest thing, the shelf behind him. It was a fucking _workshop_ ? This was where Jean was made, he knew it. His eyes skimmed across the vials and jars, easily identifying some things and being entirely clueless about others, some from magical species that had no place being messed with. A horrified expression warped his features. He shuddered when he happened across a heart and a pair of eyes, hackles going up as he turned back to facing the room. This place was _horrible_.

Cautiously, Marco took a few steps towards the pit. A scent that he could only describe as the overwhelming scent of _death_ filled his nostrils as his ears perked and strained to hear the sloshing. He had seen enough in his time to pluck out the scent of varying stages of decay. He could feel the echoes of horrible pains he could hardly imagine burning in his hand, staining the very stones around him. His heart hammered hard in his chest, veins feeling as though they were filled with icy slush. This was distorted, sick, twisted, just plain _evil_ even. Was this the true nature of what the man who built Jean was capable of? Suddenly, Jean's continued fear didn't seem as illogical. A man who would go this far… had no limits, no _morals_. Jean, a genuinely good if odd soul, was born of pure evil, in a place of pure evil.

"Oh god…" No, he corrected himself, in a place like this there were no gods. A place like this was a forsaken place. Eyes wide, Marco stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the lantern. He felt blindly behind him with one hand for the ladder. He backed up it as quickly as he dared, not wanting to take his eyes off the room for a minute as though it might swallow him whole and never let him leave if he did. Safe back in the warm light of the fireplace, he dragged his feet out of the hole quickly, slamming the door shut and hauling himself bodily atop it as though to pin it shut.

His torso was covered in a cold sweat as he tried to calm his heart from trying to break out through his chest. It hammered in his ears, dulling every sound. His gut twisted and churned as though it were trying to flip itself inside out. Shakily, he stood slowly to his feet, knees trembling. He crossed the room, glancing back at the trap door a few times as he did so. He needed something to ground him, anything.

Marco fumbled clumsily through the chest he had seen Jean going through earlier, finally tugging out a pair of pants. He sat heavily on the bed and shoved them in Jean's direction, arm trembling where he held it out. "J-jean. Jean wake up. Put… Put these on and come s-sit with me a minute, okay? Please don't question it. Please. Just… just d-do it. Please." Were his cheeks _wet_? That was weird.

Jean stirred a bit when Marco came back up noisily, still not opening his eyes but listening with a drowsy sort of intent as Marco shut the trap door, crossed the room and went through what sounded to be the chest full of clothing. When Marco sat on the bed less than lightly Jean finally squinted his eyes open with a confused frown, only to find a pair of trousers dangling in-front of his face.

He sounded strange, Jean was suddenly less lethargic and sat up, taking the pants from Marco without question even though a tremble of familiar anxiety shot through him as he realised whose they had been. But right now that mattered less to him than the other man’s obvious state of distress and Jean pulled them on and buttoned them up with fingers that felt too numb for the task.

Marco was _crying_. Jean felt a strange mingle of shock and anger and a raging sort of protectiveness wash over him and he all but leapt onto the bed to grab the other man’s shoulders, mouth hanging open in readiness to ask what the hell was wrong but then he’d been told not to. So Jean snapped his mouth shut and just pulled Marco hard against his chest and wrapped his arms around the other man in a tight embrace.

Thankful for the lack of questions, Marco still couldn't help but flinch slightly at suddenly being wrapped up in Jean's arms. He relaxed quick enough, raising arms that felt unusually shaky and weak to return the gesture. A shuddering breath escaped him that cracked into a dry sob on its way past his throat.

"I'm fine…" Marco wasn't entirely sure if it was Jean he was trying to convince or himself. Either way they carried the heavy taste of a lie on his tongue. "I'm fine. I just…" He couldn't think of the words he wanted to say. Instead, he squeezed the other man a bit tighter, clinging to his warmth. How did one convey 'I'm sorry for the circumstances of your birth' without seeming pitying? Because it wasn't pity, not even remotely. It was a feeling more akin to outrage mixed with condolence. How dare someone be that callous.

Marco knew he didn't remotely know the full story behind just how far this 'maker' had been willing to go, but from the sting of pain and the stench of death, he could only presume it had been a rocky road with many failures. Of course it had; combining creatures in such a way was less a formula than an art, hence why it was so looked down upon. He simply hadn't had reason to stop to think about it before. But now that he had, his mind churned with questions he was sure he wouldn't want answers too.

Pulling away slightly, Marco scooted backwards. He wiped the back of one hand against his cheeks before he tugged on the other man, aiming to pull him farther onto the bed. "I'm fine. Really." The words still tasted a lie. "I… This is embarrassing but… stay down here? With me?" The sensation of Jean's warmth was reassuring. A reminder that whatever unknown ills and evils he came from, he was alive and there and capable of good.

Jean didn’t think what Marco was displaying were the behaviours of ‘fine’. He seemed like a wounded animal, almost, and Jean again felt that odd mix of overprotective worry that he’d never felt before but somehow could easily identify. He wanted to protect Marco even though he didn’t know what the other might even need protecting from.

“Are you in danger?” Jean had to ask, even if Marco had told him not to and even if it meant the other man becoming irritated with him, ean couldn’t leave things as they were if there was some sort of danger nearby even though he couldn’t sense anything.

When Marco asked him to stay after moving away slightly only to pull Jean closer again, more centered on the bed - Jean lifted his brows in surprise and fell against Marco almost clumsily in his current state of tiredness. When he was asked to _stay here_ with Marco, Jean felt a little bit sick. Not because Marco wanted him but because of where they were… where he was being asked to remain. The bed didn’t hold any good memories for him and it didn’t belong to him but he managed not to look longingly up at his large hammock and instead grit his teeth and buried his face against Marco’s shoulder with a sharp nod. “Mn… I’ll stay with you. I wont leave you.”

Marco paused at the question. The tone of protective worry in Jean's voice made his heart lurch. But the question itself gave him pause. Was he in danger? He was curled up with a man who seemed to have no qualms about killing at times, one who would be unlikely to hesitate to snack on his organs if he got peckish. But yet… Jean was warm, and genuine, and hadn't hesitated to wrap Marco up in his arms either. Instinct, it seemed, was a double-edged sword. Marco shook his head firmly. No, no he wasn't.

A small huff escaped him when Jean unexpectedly fell against him but he made no complaint. The answer he was given made a sharp spike of relief well up in him. Relief and a fluttering warmth he was too tired to dwell on. "...Thanks." Marco muttered out the word finally before settling himself in a bit more comfortably. Wrapping his arms more firmly around the other man, he let his fingers trail small incoherent patterns against Jean's skin. Exhaustion pulled at him but the small movements gave him something on which to focus rather than the inside of his own mind and the door in the floor, continuing the gesture until he fell asleep.

Jean’s worry abated somewhat when Marco shook his head to indicate that he wasn’t in any danger, even though that made his current state more of a puzzle to Jean it was at least better than there being some impending attack.

He shifted down with Marco until the other man seemed to be comfortable and the stroking to his skin was both warm and calming for him, too, but Jean was still far too aware of where they were lying to completely relax. Marco, however, seemed to drift to sleep relatively quickly and Jean nuzzled against the other man, staring at the wall where the flames from the fireplace were making shadows dance and the sound of the rain was heavy in the calm silence of the room. He didn’t sleep, doubted he would be able to now but it was fine so long as Marco was resting and so he spent his time listening and idly stroking the other man, reading the titles on the spines of the books and watching the mice across the room skittering about as it got later and they awoke to move their nest from the disturbed skull.

  
Marco slept long and deeply and by the time the fire had once more died down and the morning light started to filter in through the warped glass of the windows Jean’s eyes felt dry and his head ached and his body hurt from tense muscles despite trying to relax himself. But it was fine because marco had slept and rested and looked content.


	7. Horticulture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco takes a trip into the forest to find something to eat and winds up eating something he shouldn't. The effects on both Jean and Marco are... intense to say the least.  
> WARNING: This chapter contains dubcon and sex pollen themes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter specifically: Drug-induced lust (think sex pollen), bad decisions, really rough (damaging rough) sex, and some level of dubcon.

Marco groaned blearily as he woke, disoriented and head throbbing slightly. A warm body. Arms. Touching him. So close. Trapped. He felt a moment of panic, stiffening sharply with a shaky inhale. An inhale that held a vaguely familiar scent. Jean's scent. Marco's brain finally decided to start to work again, the evening before coming back into his mind. He wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing, a vague nausea returning with the memories. 

Regardless, Marco's body relaxed with a shuddering sigh as he blinked his eyes into focus. His first action was to glance towards the trap door in a moment of illogical panic. And then, to Jean. Well, what he could see with their close proximity. He had stayed. True to his word. Marco cleared his throat slightly before trying to speak. "Mnh… Hey." 

Jean was aware of the moment Marco awoke because of the way the other man tensed suddenly, he himself freezing as a response but Marco soon relaxed and opened his eyes to glance across the room. Jean watched Marco and gave a wobbly smile down at the other man when he was greeted. “Morning.” He said in a quiet voice, eyes shadowed with dark rings from lack of sleep scrunching slightly as he smiled a bit wider.

“It’s still raining but I can find food if you need it. You ate once yesterday but I think humans usually eat more than that right?” Jean spoke quietly, shifting his hands to gently stroke along Marco’s sides. He wouldn’t be hungry again for at least a week considering he’d eaten quite a lot the day before, but he was sure humans didn’t work that way, at least the Maker hadn’t he seemed to remember the Maker also didn’t just eat meat, although he’d never been given the plants before he was sure he remembered what a few of them looked like.

"Mh… I can take care of it." Marco shook his head. It was enough that Jean had brought him back food the day before. He didn't like feeling… dependant. It made his skin crawl uncomfortably though he knew Jean meant well by it. "I'm curious to poke around the plants around here anyway. It'd do me good to get outside." 

Marco shuddered at the gentle touches, a small pleased noise escaping him as he arched. He frowned slightly as his brain processed Jean's obviously exhausted state. "You look like shit." He blushed heavily, cringing. He had very little control over blurting out his thoughts when he was still half asleep. "Sorry. That was rude. Uhm. I mean… you look really tired?" 

Jean wasn’t sure he wanted Marco to go outside and get soaked but at the same time he seemed to be feeling better than he had the day before and he  _ did _ want to let the other man explore these plants he wanted to look at. It was probably best if Marco did look for his own food if it wasn’t meat though, considering Jean’s lack of experience with plants he may remember what they looked like but some of them looked similar to inedible stuff.

He was about to respond when Marco said he looked like excrement and Jean blinked and frowned hotly, feeling indignant about being compared to feces but then Marco apologized and corrected himself and Jean looked away awkwardly, feeling his cheeks flush. “M’fine.” He stated as he reluctantly untangled himself from Marco and scooted to the edge of the bed. He didn’t need to remain here any longer now that Marco was awake, right?

Before the other man could protest Jean stood from the bed and quickly walked a few paces away from it before feeling his muscles relax a bit at last. “I-I’ll make the fire again.” He said and walked over to the hearth, crouching to get some more of the broken wood - it was almost all gone he would need to get more - and then tossing it into the embers with a stuttering yawn that made his eyes water.

Marco whined almost pathetically at the loss of Jean's warmth and touches when he pulled away so suddenly and walked away. He could only think that it was because he had offended him with his blunt comment. "I'm sorry…" Marco only just stopped himself from adding a plea for Jean not to go on to his words. His mouth had said enough embarrassing things for one morning. He really hadn't meant to or expected to upset the other man that much, berating himself for not keeping quiet in the first place. 

With a heavy sigh, Marco moved to the edge of the bed and stood as well before stretching his muscles with a groan. The sudden change in skin contact while he was still newly woken up made him feel chilled. He poked through the clothing in the trunk, briefly wondering why this guy had such terrible taste in colours before finding a shirt that was satisfactory enough and slipping it on. Crossing past Jean on his way to grab his coat, he couldn't resist trailing a hand across the back of the other man's shoulders. He grabbed up the fabric quickly, tugging it on smoothly and heading for the door. 

Jean was confused by Marco’s second apology in about as many minutes and looked up from what he was doing to watch the other man move about. “I… why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything?” Genuinely confused, Jean wondered if he would ever understand humans - in particular Marco. Since he didn’t really have interest in others.

He watched Marco dress and shivered at the touch to his shoulders, unable to help the soft groan that pressed out of him at the pleasant sensation. He wanted to arch into it but it was gone in a fleeting moment and then Marco was going towards the door. Jean stood.

“Should I come with you? Will you be ok?” He had to ask, despite feeling strange at the need. 

Marco frowned when Jean was so confused by his apology. He wondered if that meant Jean's suddenness in leaving him alone wasn't his fault after all. Interpreting the other man's behaviours was a perpetual puzzle it seemed. He shook his head with a small, if forced, smile. "Nevermind." 

The small groan that he earned made Marco smile. If it weren't for the fact he really was hungry, he might have been tempted to stay and see if he could draw out more of those tantalizing noises. Marco paused in the doorway as he felt his heart flutter with a momentary lightness at the concern but it was unwarranted. Still, it made him feel a bit silly with the sensation and the absurdity of the question. 

Marco turned back to Jean with a bemused smirk and his tone when he spoke was exaggerated as he clutched a hand to his chest like some storybook damsel. "Oh goodness me, whatever will I, frail thing, do without a strong companion to guard me in the wild forest?" He laughed, shaking his head. "No, really, I appreciate it, I do. But I'll be fine. I can handle myself. I mean… if you want, you can come? But I thought you hated the rain. So it's okay." 

Jean stared at Marco blankly for a long moment after his dramatic speech, scrunching his nose at the first lot of words that the other man had used. “You… you sounded like a woman.” He looked highly offended by the prospect, though mainly because the woman that talked like that in the books made him feel irritated. But Marco was  _ not _ one of them.

“I don’t like it. But you were strange last night and I was ...hmnh… never mind. I’ll just wait here.” He said and fidgeted where he stood for a moment before taking a step towards Marco, paused, then took a step back before turning around and walking back over to the hearth to poke at the fire with an iron poker. Trying to circulate the air through the embers and get the new logs to catch.

Marco barked out a laugh at Jean's slightly horrified expression in response to his dramatisation. His reaction was better than Marco had expected. "That was the point. It's called sarcasm." 

"Hm…" His smile grew fond at the other's words combined with his fidgeting and awkwardness. He turned back to the door, not looking back at Jean as he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise. He wasn't sure of his words and didn't want to see Jean's face if he was wrong but he had a good sense he was right. "Thank you for worrying about me." 

When Marco turned and thanked him Jean felt his face burn all the way to the tips of his ears it wasn’t like it was that big of a deal or anything… right? But it made him blush anyway and he stabbed at the embers more firmly as he heard the door shut to signal Marco had left.  He shook his head, as if to clear his it and cursed as his hair singed on the fire. Just a little bit but enough to make him be irritated at it for the hundredth time that season.

He hadn’t been allowed to cut his hair when his Maker was alive, and since then Jean still held enough anxiety over things that he hadn’t dared but it was getting to the point now where he wanted to find a knife and cut at least some of it off. Marco helped with that notion slightly as well, since he’d reduced his anxiety even if it was just by a little bit.

And then Marco was out the door, pulling his coat tight against the rain. He kept idle track of what direction he was headed as he looked through the various bushes and underbrush. He managed to find a small collection of edible mushrooms and a smattering of various berries, dropping them into a pocket on his coat. The trouble with the rainy season was it had a habit of just about drowning a good chunk of the plants that weren't toxic in some way. He was about to give up and turn back when he spotted another small cluster of plants nestled against a tree. Marco couldn't quite recall what it was, having only seen it in books a few times, but he knew he recognized it as one that was safe to eat. And it looked very appealing. 

Marco snapped off the dense little bundle, inspecting it. It was definitely the thing he had seen, if he could only remember  _ what _ exactly it was. Impulsively, he broke off a bit and ate it, giving a small groan. It was sweet but not overpowering, tempting him to have more. He turned to head back to the cottage with his find. 

Unable to resist the temptation of the appealing taste, Marco found himself idly munching on it as he made his way through the forest. Marco found himself looking up at the sky more than once, plucking at the fabric of the shirt he wore. For such a rainy day, it seemed surprisingly hot. He cursed to himself a short ways away, deciding to brave the rain and forego his coat, draping it over his arm instead. By the time he made it back, half-stumbling through the door, he had long since finished the mysterious find and was both soaked and flushed with a nonexistent heat, pupils blown wide. And was his skin usually this sensitive? He didn't think it was, though he couldn't be sure in the moment. 

Jean sat and stared at the fire the entire time Marco was out. He was exhausted and felt as if he were in a trance, unable to sleep but also unable to focus on doing much more than sit and stare. He had no idea how long passed with him like that, it seemed like both an age and the blink of an eye when Marco finally came stumbling back through the door.

Jean jolted in shock and scrambled to his feet, taking in the other man's appearance and rushing over to him. something was wrong, something was weird and whilst Marco smelled of rain and himself there was something  _ else _ mixed in that wasn’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t blood, Jean discovered as he grabbed Marco’s shoulders and looked him over, but it was potent and metallic mingled in with that pleasant scent that Marco always had that usually caused Jean’s body to heat and twitch.

It made it  _ stronger _ now. That scent that was both pungent and sweet and  _ god _ all of a sudden Jean felt like he was burning up and his dick took no time to react and throb painfully. 

Shocked by his body's reaction Jean stumbled back across the room until he fell flat on his ass by the hearth. “M-Marco! What the fuck happened!? W-what’s that smell on you…” He gasped with wide eyes, pupils already completely dilated and his hands twitching against the carpet because he could hardly contain himself from leaping up again and shoving their bodies together.

Marco jolted at the sudden grip on his shoulders, letting out a small moan just from the contact. He struggled to focus on Jean for a moment but then Jean was all he  _ could _ focus on. Marco eyed him up and down when he stumbled away, licking his lips as he spotted the bulge in Jean's pants. 

Feeling his own cock frustratingly hard, Marco found himself stalking forward. He paused at the question, blinking slightly as he tried to think through the fog of  _ Jean _ that seemed to be filling his head and the room. What happened? What did he mean? Wasn't this normal?  _ God _ he wanted to touch him, to taste him, to feel him, to fuck him. Or get fucked by him. Marco found himself picturing the other man's cock inside him and let out a keening, needy little whine. 

Questions were too hard. Marco shrugged instead, opting for a simple answer his brain could process as he continued stalking forward. "Want you.  _ Need _ you…  _ Fuck _ you look so good…" He dropped to his hands and knees as he closed in, face flushed and breathless. Not close enough as far as he was concerned, he kept advancing, moving to straddle Jean instead, needing to feel their bodies pressed together. It was like he needed it as badly as he needed to  _ breathe _ . 

Jean felt like he was the one being hunted for once, his heart began to hammer in his chest and as Marco came closer so did the scent on him. It made his breaths come hard and fast and Jean almost choked on them and the  _ hunger _ coursing through him that was beginning to make him feel out of control. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once. 

“M-Marco!” He squeaked as the other man told him he needed him, crawled towards him looking so fucking arousing. Jean couldn’t contain the growl that escaped, nor could he stop himself from grabbing Marco hard by the shoulders after the other man had straddled him and flipped them over without any mind that Marco’s head made contact with the floor rather heavily. 

Jean was too out of it now to notice much other than the heat and the smell and the way Marco felt beneath him as he ground his cock down hard against the other man's groin with a stuttered groan. “Hngh...nnh!” He did it again and his hands tightened on Marco’s shoulders before slipping down and grabbing the front of the other man’s shirt, ripping it open easily and grabbing at Marco’s pectoral muscles as if they were breasts, fingers digging in harshly. 

Marco gave a small yelp of surprise when he was suddenly being flipped. He felt the back of his head collide with stone with a crack. He was vaguely aware of a splitting sting there and something in him suggested quietly that he should be concerned but he couldn't imagine having the presence of mind to  _ care _ much less  _ register _ the pain with the way that growl resonated straight to his cock and made him whimper. 

"Ngh!" Marco cried out with a moan at the hard grinding, back arching into the sensation. Then there was a tearing noise and cold air on his torso and oh  _ hell _ Jean's hands were searing hot against his skin. And he was gripping so bruisingly tight and Marco had to screw his eyes shut, stars popping behind his eyelids. His hands shot down without a thought, undoing his pants before fumbling with Jean's because oh it was good but he needed  _ more _ and  _ now _ . Vaguely he was aware of his lips moving almost of their own accord, broken encouragements and pleas spilling from him between heavy breaths. 

Jean was spurred on by the noises the other man was making, words that blended into each other and made no sense through the thudding of his pulse in his ears but they still turned him on even more if that was even physically possible.

When Marco shoved his hands down between them and undid first his own and then Jean’s pants the almost feral growl that ripped out of him had no hope of being contained. Jean lifted one hand from it’s place on Marco’s chest and shoved it down to grab the other man’s hip in a grasp just as tight and unrelenting, lifting Marco’s pelvis upwards as he thrust his down with force enough that it would have been unpleasant if they were not in their current state of arousal.

He didn’t know why he felt like this all of a sudden, didn’t even  _ care _ because it felt so good and he was so hard and his cock  _ ached _ for something,  _ anything _ that would relieve him and he wanted to hear Marco moaning and screaming and crying beneath him. Already leaking, Jean’s cock twitched and a thick string of pre-cum shot between them as he ground down again and shoved his knees between Marco’s legs, spreading them to get a better angle.

Gasping at the bruising grip on his hip and the way he was being so easily manipulated, Marco shuddered. His voice cracked around a moan when Jean crashed their bodies together. It was so good,  _ so good _ but he needed  _ more _ , needed everything the other man could give him. It was like he was drowning, drowning and every touch was a gasp of air, and he wouldn't be okay until he had everything, until Jean was crying out for him. 

Marco groaned when his legs were pushed apart. He found himself spreading them a bit farther than he needed to because oh yes  _ that _ was what he needed, what he  _ craved _ . He couldn't fuck Jean but why the fuck couldn't Jean fuck him? He needed it. He needed to be filled, fucked hard, fucking  _ broken _ . "Oh fuck… Oh fuck, Jean…" 

Distantly, in some faint corner of Marco's mind, some shred of reason clung on just barely. It made him fumble for the coat he hadn't even remembered dropping, catching the edge of the fabric with his fingers and dragging it closer. He felt around and shit  _ why _ did he have so many pockets but he found what he needed, snatching it out. It was a small vial of oil that he kept for when he needed to make an herbal salve. And it wasn't  _ right _ , wasn't nearly  _ enough _ but it would have to  _ do _ his clouded brain reasoned, all but snapping the stopper off with a hand that felt far too clumsy, spilling the liquid onto his fingers. He managed to drop the bottle vaguely upright with the last shreds of his reasoning. Then his hand was moving again, diving down behind him as he arched his back enough to thrust his slick fingers into himself. Marco gave a broken pleasured sob, hips bucking as he fucked himself on his fingers, going straight for two as he moved as deep and fast as he could with the angle. And oh  _ fuck _ had it ever felt this  _ intense _ ? 

Jean didn’t care what Marco was doing with his hands as the other man pulled the coat over and fumbled around in there, it held no interest to Jean what-so-ever because right now all that mattered to him, all he could focus on was the feeling in his dick and the heat coursing through him like lava.

He grabbed Marco’s hips with both hands but his grinding was stopped by the other man's action of shoving a hand down behind himself. Jean could feel the way the body beneath him was suddenly trembling and sobbing with more pleasure, the bucking hips jerking against him making Jean’s own voice come out in another groan and he leaned up to see what had caused the pleasing change. He growled as he couldn’t see properly and grabbed Marco’s thighs, just above and behind the knee, spreading the other man’s legs and pushing them upwards to get a better view and he was rewarded with the vision of Marco finger fucking himself.

The anxiety that wanted to surface was smothered and drowned by the heady almost drugged state that Jean was in and all he could think of was how good that looked and how he wanted to shove his cock in there. Instinct took over as his hands - still holding on - slipped down to push Marco’s pelvis higher. Jean shoved as he bent Marco over enough to spread his ass with his thumbs and lift his own hips to easily push the leaking tip of his erection against the other man’s fingers and the all too inviting hole they were buried in. He wanted him, he wanted him  _ so bad _ his cock was throbbing and leaking and  _ aching _ with it and Jean didn’t even think before he started to shove himself against Marco’s body with intent. He didn’t care if the fingers were still there, he didn’t care if he felt dizzy and far too hot he just  _ needed  _ to be in Marco  _ right now. _

Marco had just shoved a third finger alongside the first two when his legs were suddenly lifted and he was spread. In any other context it would have been too much too soon but right then, right there, it hardly felt like enough. A wanton sound ripped its way out of his throat that only cracked into nothingness when Jean bent him farther. The angle forced him to drop back to two fingers, moving them faster. He was too far gone to care as long as  _ something _ kept fucking him. 

"Mgh…" Marco felt Jean's cock against his ass and fingers and groaned.  _ Fucking hell _ that was what he wanted. How could his fingers ever compare to  _ Jean _ fucking him? And  _ fuck _ then he was pushing forward without warning and Marco barely had time to slip his fingers out. He found himself twisting his wrist slightly to rub any remaining slickness from his hand, of which there wasn't much, against Jean's cock. Fuck no it wasn't enough, but it would  _ do _ , it was at least  _ something _ , and like  _ hell _ could he even think about stopping, he didn't think he  _ could _ . 

Jean's cock was  _ huge _ compared to Marco's ass and how little he had managed to stretch himself. Marco's head cracked back against the ground as he saw stars, gasping for breath with hands clenched in fists at his sides as the other man pushed forward.  _ Too much _ , part of his mind screamed at him.  _ Not enough _ , the lustful needy haze in his mind screamed louder, drowning everything else out and making him push his hips back against the intrusion. He felt like his body was on fire, broken needy noises escaping his increasingly hoarse throat. 

Jean felt the resistance of the body beneath him - which was purely from lack of prep and his size - and he ignored it, pushing harder with a grunt and a snap of his hips as Marco pushed back against him. Jean shoved in harshly and choked as he was balls deep within a moment due to the force he’d used. It hurt  _ him _ a bit from how tight Marco was but he couldn’t help groaning and growling and whining at the feeling as he pulled back and pushed in again.

There was no break in pace, although there wasn’t any rhythm to it either as Jean moved in a jerky, inexperienced grind that was purely to satisfy his own body's needs. He would have been more mindful of Marco if he wasn’t so drunk on whatever the goddamn idiot had gotten into his system but that was the last thing on Jean’s mind as the body beneath him clung around his dick so fucking  _ beautifully. _

He missed the way hot wetness was slick between them as Marco bled - not profusely, but  _ enough _ \- and it wasn’t long before Jean was crying out and cumming with a sharp jab of his hips before he stilled to ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through him. His hands were still tight on the other man’s upper thighs and Jean moved one up to grab Marco’s knee, bringing it close to his face and biting into his inner thigh hard enough to break the skin as he started thrusting again, not at all sated yet.

Marco's head tipped back in a soundless scream when Jean was suddenly balls deep and then moving with hardly a moment's pause. His knuckles were white with how tightly his fists clenched, small half-moon cuts being dug open on his palms from his nails. His body ached from how tense every muscle was and he felt as though he was being split open from the inside out. But it was  _ good _ , so so very good. Pain nipped at the edges of his thoughts insistently but the fog of his intense and unexpected lust shoved it into irrelevance. Who could care about something  _ pointless _ like pain when he was being railed this hard? Marco couldn't, that was certain. Distantly he wondered when he'd gotten himself that slick but the thought was barely a whisper in the dissonant chaos of spiraling pleasure in his mind.

Then Jean was crying out and cumming and it  _ stung _ but Marco sobbed out a moan because it was  _ him _ who made the other man cum,  _ his _ ass being fucked and  _ fuck _ that was so right. Because yes, he  _ should _ be making him cum, he  _ should _ be making him lose himself in pleasure. The bite made him all but scream, voice cracking into nothingness as he came, hot spurts of cum shooting to hit his upper chest and face. Marco couldn't remember the last time he had cum this much. 

But Marco wanted,  _ needed _ more. He lifted one shaky hand just enough to wrap around his own cock as he started jacking himself off harshly. He felt himself clench tighter around Jean's cock from the sudden added sensation against his overly-sensitive dick as he sobbed out hoarse little sounds, stroking himself furiously. It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough, he wouldn't-- _ couldn't _ \--be done until Jean was done with him. 

Every single noise Marco made,  _ including _ the screaming was going straight to his dick and that, coupled with the slickness from the blood and his cum made everything even  _ better _ . He could barely do anything more than thrust his hips erratically and suck on the flesh in his mouth, letting go to moan and cry out again as a particularly pleasant feeling raced through him at the way Marco tightened around him.

“M-Marco.. Marco… gnhhh! Fuck-! Marcoo-h!” He dropped Marco’s legs abruptly and leaned forward, pressing his palms to the floor either side of Marco’s shoulders as he hunched and rammed in even harder with the help of the new position and the leverage from his hands. Tears pricked at his eyes as he struggled to draw in breath around his constant moans and Jean felt like he was suffocating. Felt like it would never be enough but at the same time it was all too much and he came again. 

Taken by complete surprise he fell on top of Marco as his arms gave out and he sobbed the other man’s name as his pelvis moved in small jerks and grinds within the other man. He was so tired, he was so hot, he felt dizzy and sick and  _ still so fucking hard _ and Jean whimpered as he grabbed Marco’s hair with both hands and yanked his head to the side. Sinking his teeth into the apex of the other man’s neck and shoulder with a keening noise as he started to thrust in earnest again, knees sore from the way they were pressed into the carpet and from the rough, repetitive movements he was making.

Marco's hoarse whimpered noises only increased when Jean changed their position and increased the intensity of his thrusts. He spread his legs further to give the other man better leverage, thighs trembling. Tears rolled down his cheeks with how entirely  _ overwhelmed _ he was with the sensations. Every nerve in his body felt like it was firing in overtime. And the way Jean was absolutely looming over him certainly didn't hurt. Every negative sensation seemed to be drowned out by a parallel positive. Awful, wonderful, pain, bliss, agony, ecstasy, stop, more. 

When Jean came again and collapsed on top of him, Marco gave a desperate quiet little whine as it forced him to stop stroking himself and change the position of his wrist. It only took a moment but it was too long, too long without the sensation, too reduced now that he had less space to move his hand. 

The tug at his hair and the sensation of Jean's teeth sinking into his neck made his hips buck as he gave a hoarse and breathy groan. The arm that wasn't trapped between them shot up to claw harshly at Jean's arm, pulling him in closer. In any other context, a bite that harsh would have made him panic, but in that moment, in that perfect bubble of sensation, he tilted his head, exposing his neck farther because  _ fuck _ it hurt  _ so good _ . He couldn't think beyond that moment, beyond each thrust as it happened, beyond each moment lost in this terrifying intoxicating overwhelming  _ need _ . He started to stroke himself harder and faster, rising to higher and higher heights of pleasure, sure he would cum again at any moment. 

Jean felt Marco’s hand move between them, pressing against his lower stomach in a way that may have been unpleasant if not for the current situation. He growled around the flesh in his mouth and continued his unrestrained thrusts, tugging on Marco’s hair intermittently as his world spun and his strength started to ebb.

“Nhhn….mnhh-!” Jean moaned and shuddered, his weight pressing down on Marco more as his lightheadedness made it hard for him to support it. He was over sensitive, over tired, overheated and he wanted nothing more than to cum again, he was so close. He felt like he was constantly on the edge despite the fact he had already cum twice. “I… can’t…” He choked out the words, moving one hand to claw at the floor as his movements slowed but were still hard enough to jostle their bodies.

“I..help....ah… more…” Jean's panted words made no sense even to him but he couldn’t stop them pouring from his lips as he peaked again with a sob. This time, though, he went still and didn’t move again. Breaths harsh and hot as his body trembled and twitched and he sobbed against the side of Marco’s neck as his world spun and his vision blacked out shortly before he did.

Marco whined and sobbed when Jean slowed his movements. No no he needed _more_. But his body ached and trembled and he felt as if he was about to shatter into a million pieces and it was wonderful and terrible both at once. The weight of the other man on him made it harder to breathe than it already had been from his desperate shallow panting. 

"J-jean… Fu… ck…" His quiet moans were barely audible as he stroked himself harder, climaxing again between them only moments after Jean had. Marco felt Jean's body tremble and shake and he knew he was trembling and jerking just as bad, if not worse. Everything went quiet as his vision swam. And then went dark.

The next thing Marco knew, he was gasping for air, the formerly thick warm air feeling suddenly like he was inhaling ice. Ice that shot through his veins in moments of regaining consciousness. The waves of pleasure that had lapped through him before--how much time had passed?--were quickly overtaken by waves of shattering pain as his body shook and quaked. He wanted to scream, tried, and was met with only a hoarse quiet squeaking sound. 

Jean was still on top of him, so heavy, Marco couldn't breathe. He felt like someone had split him at the seams, tearing him apart and  _ fuck _ his ass stung and burned with any slight shift he made. Fuck this was not good. What the  _ fuck _ had happened to him? To both of them? It was like he didn't have any control of himself or any reason. And neither did Jean. "J-...ean?" Marco cracked out the words as best as he could, lifting a leaden arm to shake at the other man's shoulder and wait were those bloody claw marks on Jean's arm from  _ him _ ? 

Jean became faintly aware of something when Marco shook him and croaked out his name, but he couldn’t move or open his eyes and all he could do was let out a barely there noise as he tried to claw his way out of the thick, heavy blackness that he was stuck in. He managed to whimper and slowly became aware of how much his body ached and how  _ hot _ he felt.

Jean let out a sob and twitched, finally able to move his hands as he tried to press them to the floor and lift himself but he trembled and fell back down after moving barely an inch. Oh god he  _ hurt _ all over and his head felt like it was being cleaved in two with an axe. Jean struggled with his body for a moment before managing to roll over and off of Marco, pulling himself out of the other man’s body with a whimper and falling heavily to the floor beside him. Jean couldn’t open his eyes, felt stabbing pain every time he tried and he gasped for air through the heat raging through him, his hand twisting sideways until he felt Marco.

He remembered,  _ everything _ and Jean let out a pained sob because he wasn’t sure if Marco had been screaming and crying out in pain or pleasure and he’d done exactly what the Maker had done to him…. hadn’t he? He’d lost himself and  _ hurt _ Marco and he was sure he smelled quite a lot of blood. He sobbed again, then again until his body was shaking with them and his face was wet with tears. “I-I’m sorry...I’m sorry I’m  _ so sorry...Marco… I’m sorry.. oh god… _ !”

Marco hissed sharply as Jean pulled out of him and collapsed to the side, a few gasps of pain escaping him as the sting worsened. He saw stars. Everything hurt. The bites hurt. His head hurt. His body hurt. Muscles he didn't even know he had hurt, not to say the least about his poor ass. Even the whimper made his throat burn. He wasn't sure there was anything that  _ didn't _ hurt. 

"Ngh…" Marco gave a small fatigued groan. He knew he'd be fine if he could just heal himself but he was so  _ tired _ and so  _ sore _ and he just wanted to just… not move… ever again… for the foreseeable future. In the moment it had all felt  _ so good _ and now everything felt  _ so terrible _ and it was baffling. How had he been able to lose himself like that? What the hell had happened? 

Jean's sudden sobbing and apologizing spurred him into action from his pained daze. He tried to roll closer, whimpered as his vision swam with pain, laid back down. Focusing on just his ass and his throat, Marco struggled to clear his mind enough to heal those two spots so he could hopefully move and talk without searing pain. Everything else could wait. It took longer than usual, Marco struggling to maintain the void with his lack of energy, but he managed. 

Marco succeeded this time in rolling himself slightly, enough to wrap an arm around Jean and pull him in close, holding him tightly. His arms felt so heavy. But this was important. "Shhh… Shh… It's okay. Don't be sorry. Fuck, don't be sorry. I'm fine, see? It's okay. I was  _ not _ telling you to stop, was I? It's okay. Shh…" Marco murmured any reassurances he could think of, throat still stinging slightly on each word despite at least being able to speak again. He scattered small chaste kisses anywhere he could reach without moving too much. Moving too much made his head swim and he noted his hair seemed caked to the back of his skull. 

Jean continued to sob and apologise and curse himself whilst Marco was healing himself, he still couldn’t open his eyes but Jean wasn’t sure he even wanted to with the memories and how much blood he could smell. By no means was it as much as say - if he’d ripped chunks of Marco’s flesh off - but it was more than a small scratch or a split lip and he felt sick. 

Jean choked on his breath as Marco rolled over and tried to reassure him but Jean could hear how exhausted the other man was, voice weaker than normal. “I...I’m.. a  _ monster _ I..hu---hurt...like Maker… blood.. ugh..wahh.” He dissolved into fits of tears and sobbing again and gagged as he drew in breath. Sick, hot, guilty… Jean pressed his hands to his face as Marco gave him soft kisses and he felt even more wretched with how the other man was concerned for  _ him _ when he should be worried about himself. 

“Y-your head...and… d- _ down there _ I… I  _ broke them...I’m sorry … I’m sorry… Ugh...kh...urgkh _ ” He gagged again and rolled over so his back was facing Marco as he dry heaved. The fever searing through his body, the pain in his head and dizziness, guilt and the harsh sobs making him feel nauseous. 

Marco's chest felt tight from the sound of Jean's self-depreciating crying. It hurt him to see Jean hurting like this. Especially because of  _ him _ . When Jean mentioned his maker, Marco flinched. No, he would  _ not _ allow Jean to make associations like that. 

When Jean rolled away from him, Marco pounced, wrapping an arm around Jean's chest and burying his forehead between Jean's shoulder blades. His own aches and pains be damned, this was more important. Even if being closer to the sobbing made his head feel like it was being peeled open from his eye sockets. "You're a self-depreciating idiot, Jean." He paused for just long enough for the words to sink in but without giving the other man a chance to respond before he continued. 

"I have no idea  _ why _ the fuck that happened, but I  _ do _ know a few things. First,  _ I _ came on to  _ you _ , thanks much. Me. My actions. Second,  _ holy fuck _ I was not exactly complaining. I was beside myself with how  _ good _ that felt. I don't know  _ why _ but that was probably the most  _ intense _ thing I've ever felt. And it felt  _ good _ . Third,  _ I'm _ the one who brought the anal into the equation with fucking  _ oil _ and without  _ nearly _ enough prep for the size of your dick. Not you. I know better. That's on me. Fourth,  _ it felt good _ . I don't know  _ how _ but  _ fuck _ I don't remember cumming that hard ever. Sure, it hurts like hell  _ now _ but then?  _ Wow _ . Fifth, yes my ass hurts, yes my head hurts. But I can fucking  _ heal _ it, so frankly  _ I don't care _ . Sixth, I honestly just want to know  _ what _ the fuck just happened but I am  _ very _ sure it is  _ not _ your fault. So will you please get your head out of your ass?" His tone was earnest if a bit snippy but he still punctuated each number with a nuzzle and a kiss between Jean's shoulders. 

Jean couldn’t stop his sobs even as Marco started to speak, he had no idea what ‘self-depreciating’ meant but he didn’t have time to wonder either since Marco carried on talking. The other man’s words made the sick guilt in his chest slowly ease but he still felt extremely unwell and deduced that he’d come down with some kind of illness from getting cold and wet or not enough sleep or whatever that weird smell on Marco had been. 

“G-good?” He said, then made a small hum of agreement because it  _ had  _ felt good, great even. At the time. Even if he felt awful now, even if his balls and dick ached like he’d been kicked between the legs. God only knew how bad Marco felt and it made his chest twinge.

Marco felt a wash of relief as the sound of Jean's sobbing stopped. His head really hurt. But more importantly, it seemed like his absurdly--in Marco's view anyway--exaggerated guilt was calmed slightly. "So fucking good. Hurts like hell now but hey, hindsight." He laughed only to cringe as his vision swam. 

With a shuddering breath Jean finally opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t. It made him feel even more sick, but he swallowed thickly and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Y-you need… food.. rest… hng..” He pressed a hand to his head and swayed for a moment before forcing himself to a stand. Marco was hurt and weak and Jean - even though he felt extremely unwell - needed to do  _ something _ to make Marco feel better even though he wasn’t sure what would help.

"Jean?" Marco's voice cracked on the word and he cleared his dry throat as best as he could. He frowned when Jean sat up and swayed, obviously disoriented. "Jean, really it's okay. I'm fine. You're in no condition to be running around. You're gonna get yourself hurt. ...Worse. I just need a nap." Marco was sure Jean was in pain that he wasn't letting on to aside from just his head. His head throbbed in sympathy and he reminded himself to fix his head before napping. 

"And maybe you can just… stay c-close." Everything ached and Marco would do just about anything for a warm bath or a warm gentle hug. A bath was far too much to hope for, but a long embrace would definitely do. His voice stuck in his throat dryly again and he made an annoyed noise. "Okay, maybe water. If you're not too sore. But that's  _ it _ . Then you sit your ass down."

Jean squinted down at Marco for a long moment before turning and making his way out of the cottage as if drunk, snagging a copper jug on the way. He came back with it full of fresh rainwater from a barrel outside that was used to collect it in the rainy season and shakily poured some into a ceramic cup for Marco. He was wet now, dripping water to the floor but not soaked through, and it had felt surprisingly pleasant on his too hot skin.

But instead of giving the cup to Marco he walked over to the bed, placed the cup down on the small table beside the head of it and then walked back with a determined - if not slightly sickly - look on his features. With a grunt Jean bent down and pulled Marco up into his arms, jostling him until he was over a shoulder. He was heavy but not enough to bother Jean too much due to his surprising strength, the only issue was that he was dizzy and he stumbled as he made his way to the bed, dropping Marco onto the soft mattress with an apology before slumping to his knees as the edge of the bed and dry heaving. There was no way he could let Marco stay there on the floor. Even if he felt like he couldn’t move any more after carrying the other man across the room, it was better than leaving him there. “S-sleep...urghk…”

Marco felt a bemused spike at Jean's stubborn stumbling out into the rain but didn't protest. He would have rolled his eyes if his head didn't hurt. He figured at least this way Jean would feel like he was  _ doing _ something as well. 

"Jean what are you…?" Marco eyed the other man up with a wary expression when he was suddenly walking back towards him, without the cup. His question was answered a moment later as he was suddenly hoisted up. Marco yelped, clinging on as best as he could. And then he was landing on the bed with a thump and a sharp inhale of air. Marco was pretty sure he almost blacked out for a moment as he sat there dazed. 

Managing to grab the cup, he took a few blissful sips of the cool water as he collected himself, pressing his hand to his head to heal it more easily. The blood in his hair still felt awful, but at least his head only ached rather than throbbing now. He dipped the sleeve of his torn shirt in it before wiping at his face, succeeding in at least getting enough of the crusty cum off that he could make facial expressions without feeling it  _ crinkle _ .

Looking at Jean where he kneeled beside the bed, Marco furrowed his brow. "Are you… Can you come up here? If not it's… it's okay." His words were cautious but concerned. He didn't want Jean just crashing on the floor alone. 

Jean was trying not to either pass out or be sick where he sat, so it took a moment for Marco’s words to register and process in his brain. He wanted to shake his head, but the attempt left him reeling and he growled at his own bodies uselessness. Eventually he managed to lift his hand, elbow still resting on the bed, and point at the hammock above them shakily. “M-my bed…” He said, as if he could get there when he couldn’t even shake his head.

But at the same time Marco was hurt, and he wanted him didn’t he? Jean winced as he clawed his way up onto the bed reluctantly, only making it far enough that his upper body was slumped over it, knees still touching the floor. Jean reached out and placed his hand on Marco’s knee, the other man’s flesh feeling cool on his heated fingertips. “Mn.. sleep, Marco.”

Marco blinked up at the hammock before looking back down at Jean as if he were insane. He didn't really think there was any chance he was getting up  _ there _ did he? But Jean had seemed hesitant of the bed the night before. And of touching or using anything that had belonged to the cottage's previous owner. 

"Jean, you stubborn idiot…" Marco sighed softly and sadly at Jean's attempt at getting onto the bed. He shook his head with a small smile before dragging the pillow from the bed and tossing it to the floor beside the bed. He scooted himself to the edge, dragging the sheet with him. Marco steeled himself, testing out the location of various bruises. It would do. In one unceremonious motion, he slid to his knees next to Jean with only a small wince, wrapped the fabric around them and in the process wrapped his arms around the other man, and dragged them both to the floor. "....Better. Now sleep."

Jean wondered what Marco was doing when he threw the pillow, but then the other man was moving and ended up on the floor with him, wrapping Jean in an embrace that felt cool against his skin and it felt so  _ good _ . He groaned almost pitifully but didn’t protest.

He almost wanted to cry again at how nice Marco was being to him after everything, but grit his teeth and pressed his face to Marco’s chest as he wrapped his arms around Marco and let his eyes fall shut. It didn’t take long at all for him to lose consciousness again, swallowed by the hot, inky depths of an exhaustion and illness bred sleep.

A happy sigh escaped Marco as Jean pressed his face into his chest. That seemed like a good sign. Hopefully Jean wasn't holding this against himself too badly. His mind raced with curious questions about exactly  _ why _ the earlier events had transpired, keeping sleep from him for some time despite how his body ached and stung. 

Marco ran through the variables, eventually narrowing it down to the strange sweet plant. He'd been right that it wasn't poisonous, but then how  _ would _ he describe that effect? The idea of a libidinous plant seemed absurd. Though, he supposed stranger things were out there. That was about as far as his thoughts made it before sleep finally claimed him. Everything hurt. He just wanted rest. Whatever it had been, he could figure it out later. 


End file.
